151: Week One
I hope the thing we remember
from these days of firsts
is how you squeezed my hand
when we unlocked the door
and how we ate cheese and crackers
on the front porch steps
and how we wrote letters by candlelight
because our lamps hadn't arrived
and how we walked far too slow in the crosswalks
because the city demands attention.
And how we'd sneak out early
to walk weary bodies to coffee
and how there were roses growing
at the end of the street
and how I couldn't help but whisper to you-
"this is magic" most every day.
But more than anything,
I hope we remember how we had nothing
and how it was more than enough.
Recent PostsSee All
Every night we sit on the couch. Your arm around my shoulders, my knees pulled towards my chest. We eat dinner. We talk about the day. The dog sleeps, belly up nestled on top of our sock feet. And eve