February 24, 2015

In The Evening

Pretty much every night we sit in bed and dust our finger tips lightly on the others back. In our family we call it a-ing. Like Canadians. I suppose it could be eh-ing. Either way I like that word better than scratch or tickle because those don’t do it justice. We set a little timer so each of us gets the same amount. Sometimes I pause the timer so I can have more, but you don’t know that. 
I journal. You read. And we wind down for the night. 
When we lay our heads down I normally ask you to look in my eyes. How is it that sometimes I can live so close to you and go an entire day without looking in your eyes? Really look. Making eye contact for an extended period of time. Wondering what is going on in that head of yours, but mostly hoping that you are as happy to be with me as I am to be with you. 
You always fall asleep first. Laying on my side, while you lay on your back, I wait for the inevitable twitch. The sudden movement before you plunge into a deep sleep. My favorite is when you talk in your sleep. Sometimes it’s a made up language or a joke that never makes it to the punch line. I always try to grab my phone to record it, but I’m never fast enough. 
It’s you that has made me this way. Made me someone who loves the evening above all else, because evenings with you are where we are us.

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