The other night, I was sitting in the living room watching K on the deck just on the other side of the sliding glass door. She was saying something to my mom about the garden she's been working so hard on, the one she lets me help with sometimes, even though I have an awful black thumb. There are vegetable sprouts coming up now for a late harvest, and she was explaining something about it that I couldn't hear from inside.
I guess it sounds a little cheesy, but I just kept thinking, I hope this is what's in store for the rest of our lives. She was laughing, and I couldn't hear it, but I could see it in her body even though her back was turned to me. And I couldn't stop smiling like an idiot.
Lately, too, we've been told on a couple of occasions how strange and funny it is to watch the two of us together, that we read each other so easily and silently; people can see whole conversations happen between us through exchanged looks alone. I guess I've never really thought about it, but once it was pointed out to me, I've been more conscious of it. And you know what? That's what I love about being in love. There's so much understanding and not really a need to constantly fill gaps of space with sound because you're just comfortable and you just understand.
You guys, I can't wait to be married to her.