Eighteen years ago tonight, this dude kissed me on his couch. I remember it clearly — sweet and soft and slow, Explosions in the Sky playing in the background, two baby boys sleeping soundly down the hall. Afterward, he pulled away from me and whispered, “I wasn’t supposed to do that.” He wasn’t wrong… most would agree we were neither right nor ready for each other. But alas, the heart wants what it wants and sometimes, that’s miraculously enough for God to do his thing.
There are days when I exercise before sunrise and walk 10,000 steps before lunch and see all of the people and say all of the words and do all of the things… and then there are days my children bring all of my meals to me in bed and I move enough only to tend the most basic of bodily functions. Life is both-and, after all.
I remember that cup of tea I’ve made, able to enjoy it while it’s still hot. Heck, I’ll settle for warm or even room temp.
There is very little in life with which I may compare the feeling I get listening to the sounds my plants make after I water them on a Saturday morning.
I’ll try, I respond to his request. I’ll try, too, he replies. And thus is the story of us these days. From laundry reminders to gentler words, and all of the nuances in between.
We say sorry only when we mean it, and throw away lipsticks that flake.