Jonathan and I went on date today. The first we’ve had this year.
When nearly every outing since March 2020 has included two vibrant (and somehow always hungry) children, being alone together feels foreign.
There’s grief and hope for the future mingled together when I ponder this.
Who are we to each other after becoming parents, after nearly a decade of being husband and wife, after all we’ve been through in the private world of marriage?
We’re still trying to figure that out but I do know this: the more I do life with him the more I want to do life with him.
I’ve always felt completely safe to be who I am with Jonathan. There’s a one-ness that permeates the atmosphere around our relationship; it’s always been there but I feel it more these days. It can be euphoric, mysterious, exhausting and relieving all at once.
I wouldn’t want to give this much of myself to anyone but him. He feels the same.
Who else could bear the weight of our hearts—stitched, bruised and still beating—but one another?