hearing him breathe

in the early morning hours, i can hear his breathing from down the hall. i'm usually curled up on a couch, reading and drinking coffee, starting my day before anyone in the house. his breath is slow. methodical. i could plan a rhythm around it if i wanted to - a song of pulses.

and even though i'm tired, even though my eyelids droop and the words on the page are taking their sweet time in sinking deep, his presence brings life to the blood in my veins. his pulse may be steady, a sleeping exhale, but mine turns erratic - the sharp intake of breath from a love realized.

our lives are crazy now. meetings and dreams and dinners and community fill up our evenings. they'll only get crazier, i know. soon, tiny limbs and tiny fingers will fight for their place in between our bodies, tangled in bed on or on the couch. most likely we'll welcome the intrusion.

for now, i'll cling to the familiar.

counting gifts -

0061 :: feeling the wind rush past me and holding tight to his frame 0062 :: watching {and feeling} his father heart bloom 0063 :: the way our feet find each other right before we fall asleep 0064 :: hearing him laugh 0065 :: ten years of our hands reaching for the other during prayer 0066 :: embracing the feeling of wanting to crawl back in bed and into his embrace 0067 :: the way he slowly wakes up, inch by inch, stretching and yawning 0068 :: date nights and netflix binges 0069 :: missing a camping trip so he can camp out with me for work under the stadium lights, which means no sleep and many middle school girls asking questions and giggling throughout the night 0070 :: his constant belief in me

tell me...what are you thankful for today? 

Posted on April 1, 2012 and filed under fluttering pulses.