If I could I would spend every day like this.
Lying still after I wake to simply breathe & welcome in this new day with intention. We sleep in a bit longer than usual & snuggle closely. Lost in your long hair. Unable to resist a kiss, even though I think morning breath is the worst. I get out of bed before him. Drink a glass of water first. Then linger over coffee. I swear I like the ritual of it, the whole process the habit of coffee brings about, more than the coffee itself.
Breakfast is taken solo outside on the back patio. Simple summer fare – freshly picked raspberries & blueberries & blackberries over plain yogurt. A dollop of peanut butter & coconut flakes because I am feeling lavish. I realize I am not really alone. I am eating with the birds & deer & our bountiful apple tree. I am eating with the people who picked these berries. I am eating with the soil & the sun & the water it took to grow this food.
Feeling nourished, I sit down to write. To practice. Then comes a bit of photo editing & publishing another blog post. All of this is done before I decide to wake him. It works out that way. His morning routine is rest as much as possible & mine is to move, slowly. He emerges from the bedroom with the most adorably disheveled lion’s mane. We drink coffee in silence as we both prefer a quiet communion. Our conversation is spoken through our eyes only. “I love you.” “You amaze me.” “I am so grateful for you.” “I want to spend my life with you.” Words can’t express these things as well as the eyes anyway.
We move to the kitchen once he returns from the market, sorting out the produce & spices & proteins we intend to transform. Spencer was asked to prepare dinner for our neighbor whose children just started school & wanted a nice meal but just didn’t have the time. He made her the most beautiful chicken, creamy black bean, and pico enchiladas I have ever seen (or tasted!).
I was on lunch duty – family meal. I had about a dozen brightly colored eggs fresh from my parents chickens & squash from their garden to use, plus onion & garlic & basil from Shoshone River Farms. I decided they would make a lovely frittata. We chopped & peeled & baked & laughed & talked & danced. The kitchen is a suitable dancefloor for us. I assembled squash, zucchini & eggplant slices along the bottom of a cast iron skillet. Then topped it with caramelized onion & whisked eggs with basil. I flitted about with my camera, unable to capture the entire essence of this moment. I also read aloud to us as he finished assembling his dish. “Stranger in a Strange Land” by Robert A. Heinlein. I enjoy the practice of reading aloud, playing different characters, expanding my voice.
We dined outside again, enjoying the frittata and some tabbouleh & baba ganoush from the night before. The midday heat actually felt nice & we lingered outside long after the food disappeared. He looked at me and said “You are so beautiful.” My heart skipped, I admit. He took my breath away. Little did he know, I had written a list of prompts earlier that morning & the third in line was “you are so beautiful.” After I wrote these prompt ideas, I realized they almost seemed like intentions I was setting for my year ahead. Giving myself a list of emotions & concepts that I wish to experience so that I may share about them. Elephants. Revolution. Intentional community. Time. Gravity. Gratitude. If only for a moment. Comfort. Sound of silence. Rejection. Hands to last a lifetime. What am I setting myself up for!?
We returned to the store & took our time there & back. On even the shortest walkabouts there is so much to take in! An accordion player out front. Friendly cashiers. Familiar faces. “Randomly” running into that person you’ve been meaning to talk to. When you slow down enough to live the life you’re living now it’s incredible what marvels you find.
We returned home to find Justine back from her short trip south to Jackson. We greeted each other like it had been weeks since the last time we saw each other, when really it had only been two days. She excitedly told us all about her trip & we listened with open ears. It’s so good to see one of your best friends absolutely lit up! So happy & full of love. Full of LIFE! It makes my heart tingle.
The three of us raised our Blue Moons in a toast to life, took a slow sip & sat back to take it all in. The kitchen was a disaster by this point. I never thought I’d meet anyone messier in the kitchen than myself, my mom can attest to that! But it seems I have found my match. A mountain of dirty dishes & food on every possible surface. It’s a good thing I love cleaning so much. Seriously… I love cleaning. There is something so incredibly gratifying about it. So I begin, one dish at a time. I wash & rinse, he displaces the dishes to their designated homes.
It’s not spotless when we decide to move on, but it’s good enough for the time being. The three of us agree on having a picnic, so we gather the necessities – blanket, guitar, camera, malbec – and head to Beck Lake. Spencer & Justine pass the guitar back and forth while I snap shots of them & the fluorescent pink sun, colored by the surrounding wildfires.
From there we move to Adriano’s for a white pizza & red wine. Meal sharing has got to be my favorite pastime. We tell stories & laugh & cheers too much. We all say how happy we are & how much we love one another. If I’ve ever felt home, this is it.
Slightly tipsy, we walk main street to gently move our satisfied bellies. We run into some friends & engage in conversation. We window shop & dream of what kind of restaurants & shops could fill these buildings.
Once home, a Wes Anderson movie is watched while we indulge in a little dessert – black coffee & almond cookies. Justine retired first, then I fell asleep on the couch in Spencer’s lap. He lifted me & we went to bed together, peeling off our clothes because it’s too hot not to sleep naked & we couldn’t bear anything between us. Our bodies met like they do. Forming together as one, electricity running between us. He whispers to me again, “you are so beautiful.” I melt. I’ll spare you all the details, but I have learned something so important by making love with him. And by that I don’t necessarily mean sex.
I see clearly now that Love is God. And when expressed fully, shamelessly, openly, passionately, vulnerably, wildly, it is clear to see that this is surely the goal of life.
To make love.
To be love.
And to be loved.
You are so beautiful.