Here

                          

Today, you said, “How was your day?”

You kissed me goodbye

and hello

and more than a few times in between

 

You fixed my coffee

just the way I like it

You turned down the bed

and fixed that broken door

again

 

Today, you looked at me

You saw me, and you listened

when I rambled on about

something

 

Today, you planted lavender in the yard

at our house on the lake,

where deer make themselves at home

and cranes croak out their goodbyes as they fly away,

where geese start their families,

where we live—just live—together

 

It is these moments—

packed full with so much grace and gift,

such kindness and beauty and gentleness,

so much that I don’t know where to put it all

in my heart and my head and spilling over the edges

of my eyes, where I try to see each one,

to soak up every little extra-ordinary moment,

partly out of fear that they will disappear

in a blink

 

And partly out of unimagined joy,

stunned

that such simple moments can even happen in the first place,

in this life, our life

here—

 

It is these small moments:

this is where joy lives,

where deep peace grows deep roots

in the ordinary order of things,

in moments that go by so fast

I could miss them if I wasn’t really paying attention

 

To the love that lives

here