I went through a stage in life where I did not like to be alone. Now, I savor waking up while it’s still dark and enjoying the quiet. I usually like to experience this alone. But on the off-chance that I’m not making custom breakfast orders for my littles, hurrying them along to preschool (a six-course spread for my tiny-but-hungry four-year-old, and milk – just milk for my two-year-old) and Matt hasn’t already left for work at 5:30 (when I say I enjoy the morning, I mean morning, not before six – which is still the middle of the night according to my standards), we get to share that moment together.
When asked for his description of paradise, Johnny Cash offered this six-word description: “This morning, with her, having coffee.”
Just me and him. Too dark to see the dirty dishes. Too quiet to hear the footsteps and giggles, moanings and ‘Mommyyyyyyyy’s.’ Too fresh to be annoyed by the trash sitting by the door, waiting to be taken out. Too calm to be frazzled about the day.
And I remember. I remember the lack of distraction of life that was present when we fell in love. How we’d talk about things other than the kids or if he was going to be home for dinner or which clothes need washed that day. That he needs me and I need him.
I remember that we don’t need words to connect. That when we’re just together, it’s really not very hard to laugh. That underneath keeping up the house and the farm, the middle-of-the-night wakeups, the few extra pounds since college and the pow wows to go over the budget … again, I’m not just his wife, I’m so proud to be his girl.
His strength and provision give me the energy to face the same routine as most of my yesterdays in this season, and to be thankful for this life we get to lead, together.
Thank you, Mr. Cash, for putting into words so simply and eloquently, the only paradise I really want to experience this side of heaven.