It’s 3 am but my body is telling me that it is 4 am. Daylight Savings Time has started, so my body is one hour ahead of the clock, but this is still too early for me. I’ve become accustomed to waking up early, to the soft voice of Brian Lehrer fading into our room as the alarm goes off at 6am. When I first moved in, the early morning NPR drove me crazy. All I wanted was to sleep in and relax. Jonathan was the complete opposite. Early to rise, early to get work done. My mother told me mirroring stories of her and my father when they first got married.
As I lay here, I hear the predictable light snore of My Love next to me. He stirs a bit while I look at him, to see if he’s possibly awake as well, when he buries his face into his arm. He hums while he exhales, a sign he’s drifting into deep sleep again, and my mind wanders. I look up at the tree, one that My Love got years ago, by our bed and observe the ultra thin fairy lights wrapped around it’s branches. They’re not normal Christmas lights, they’re thin lights, on a thin wire, so tiny they look like fairies. I’ve wanted them forever, but in a past life, I was told they were the dumbest thing a person could have in their room. In this life, when I sheepishly mentioned that I thought they were cool, we got them. “If you like them, we will get them.”
Sometimes, I find myself overthinking this new life. When I’m laying in bed reading my book, I peek up to watch my love bop around to "Hotline Bling" while he rearranges our room. A thunderstorm of fears roll through my head bringing a downpour of what ifs. What if the rug is pulled out from my feet again? What if this too good to be true? What if?! As if he can read my mind, my love stands at the edge of our bed and squeezes my feet. He winks at me and I wink back, our silent sign for “Hey babe, it’s ok. You’re doing great.” In that moment the clouds roll away and just like a summer rain, it’s gone. I’m grateful for these moments. Our adventures are wonderful but the small moments are what I hold on to the most. Like the rare times we stay in at night just so we can watch tv, and knit. Or when we watch a swollen moon hang low in the evening sky. Or when we walk around the city for hours at a time. It’s magical. I feel as if I keep repeating myself when I talk about this new love I’m experiencing with My Love, but I can’t help it. It’s so brand new. I’ve never been with someone who I’ve loved this much. Who I’ve been lucky to have understand me this much. With someone who has loved me just as much as I loved them. I have never been more of my(weird)self, in a relationship. I’m me, in a marriage, but it’s really me.
My eyelids feel like they have twenty pound weights attached to them, but my mind is racing away. I’m planning our day, the next day, and the following month. I’m excited for the holidays, for my day off, for more adventures, and finally, for some more sleep.
