Lately, Charlee needs me through a lot of the nights. This has called for a musical chairs version of who’s in what bed at any given time. Meaning TJ and I miss the familiarity of each other’s bodies under the same blanket. We miss knowing the night brings with it that sacred promise of proximity. It’s a season; it’s a hard season, but it’s a season.
“I know this isn’t what you dreamt of when you married me,” I told him recently, “I know we’re missing each other and I’m so sorry…”
He stopped me short, “What do you mean this isn’t what I dreamt of? You, me–together with Charlee and another baby coming. A family with you is exactly what I dreamt of and it’s what we have. It’s what we are.”
This kind of love ignites a fire in these weary bones. It continually pulls my gaze up, up to the one who gave it to us, the one who sustains it. It is one of my greatest gifts and I will protect it for as long as I stand. And if one day I can no longer stand, I will lay down on it with the resolution to keep it close, to keep it safe, to keep it here.