I look at him, and tensions ease. I smile. I lean in. I soak in his presence and his warmth.
When we hug, I bury my nose in his neck, inhaling his scent – soap, shave oil, and man. My man.
Even when it’s awful, and God knows, it’s been horrible at times, I wouldn’t choose another place to be on this earth. I don’t fear losing him to another woman, to another human being. I only fear losing him to fate and time and age – all things we have no control over.
Could I go back ten years and find him sooner? Would we have been the right people for each other then? Maybe, maybe not.
We are dubbed “cute” and “adorable” and maybe we are. We love and are loved. We have survived relationships that couldn’t cope with who we are as individuals, that couldn’t handle our type of love, that couldn’t accept us for who we are. From those trials, from those experiences, we grew into people who knew that we would never take a deep, abiding love for granted. So when you see a cute couple that glows with love, know that you also see a couple that knows what it’s like to be devastatingly alone in our own marriages. The path we took was long, winding, and at times, without hope but that path set us down in front of one another.
I know that our first conversation was December 23, 2012 but I swear we have been together always. Nearly three years seems like a lifetime. A lifetime seems like a blip in time. None of it makes sense. Haven’t we always been the other’s half? Haven’t we always been together, making one solid whole?
His voice eases something deep inside of me, filling me with a soothing warmth like no other has ever done. I hear him, and I know all will be well. Maybe not in that moment, but eventually.
Teasing, soothing, loving, growling – every inflection of tone and pitch generates a different response deep inside, but at my core, I glow.
His touch makes me feel more alive than any other I’ve ever known. Holding hands brings comfort. Making love sets me on fire. Yielding to his control and the pain he grants molds me into something new and reborn every time.
He is my happy place.
He is home.
Welcome to Wicked Wednesday! This week’s prompt was to write about our happy place. My place isn’t a location, it’s a person. And I’m pretty sure you can all guess who.