Tonight J and I took the dogs on a loooong walk through his neighborhood. It's one of my favorite things to do with him, and the fact that spring has sprung excites me to no end. Halfway through, both of the dogs are content and we can finally just enjoy our stroll, and so we continue on to our next favorite pasttime: talking about houses as we pass them. We love to discuss what kinds of features will be in our dream home (Her: luxurious dark wood floors and oil-rubbed bronze appliances, Him: a flat-top grill in a gourmet kitchen--don't get too excited, it's so he can make huge piles of bacon all at once!), and yes, we both get paid in circus peanuts now, we like to think someday it'll be a reality.
I go back and forth from feeling like this man who holds my hand is really an extension of me, that we share the same thoughts and heart and feelings, and other times I'm fascinated by our differences. After a few blocks on our walk, he says, "Come this way, I want to show you something..." and he led me down a street we have walked down 2,000 times, but this time was new. The sidewalks were lined with dozens of tiny beautiful white flowers...flowers I'm sure I've seen before, but never...noticed. "Star of Bethlehem" he tells me, and he wanted me to see how they'd bloomed so suddenly. And honestly, at that moment, I know they were the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
1 comments:
and i appreciate J's knowledge of the great outdoors. who knew there was a flower named that? and i am also envisioning the streets that you are walking along...its like i am driving with you in the car right now.
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