A lunch date in the middle of the afternoon because we miss each other between the legos and basketball hoop and constant demands to give all of us to all of them.

Conversations where he listens until I feel fully heard.

Cross-pollinating our days with stolen moments in the sunshine in between our two business modes. When no one is drop dead exhausted yet. And my conversation opener is more than, “thank heavens you’re home; here take these kids before I do bad, bad things to them.”

Holding hands.

Laughing so hard that even the kids want in on the private joke.

Unloading the dishwasher together.

Sunday afternoon grown up naps.

He tells me I’m beautiful, in the wee hours, without make up. And I believe him. Wearing my rumpled hair and his Tigers T-shirt. The one he had before he ever had me.


OK, your turn.