I’m browsing the footsie pajamas when he calls.

“I just walked in, where are you?”

He finds me melting over matching boys T-shirts that say, “Future Prince Charming.” I worry that he might make fun, but then notice he’s got a toy husky pup clutched in hand. As if Micah needs another one.

“But look how cute it is,” and we both agree, Micah would be smitten. But we also agree that our overly affectionate, nearly two-year-old does not need yet one more dog to crowd his crib or the diaper bag.

We wander the aisles. Leisurely. His hand brushes up against mine. He laughs a joke in my ear. Luxurious, this being together without our children crowding out our conversation, our space. Suddenly picking out deodorant is the most intimate, romantic of moments. Because we are doing it together, at our own pace. Utterly unhurried.

I catch a glimpse of myself in an overpriced mirror. My hair has taken on a life of its own – unruly as our boys. Sans lipstick or jewelry or flattering lighting it is a true reflection of me. And this, this is the person he smiles at across the checkout counter. This is the person he hugs close in the parking lot. He smells of the cologne counter. Just like he did when we were students, sampling the overpriced perfumes. He used to have me smell many a different spot on his neck, jaw, chin. A heady concoction. It’s a treat to visit those places again. In a snowy parking lot. In the middle of the afternoon.

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