The forecast: more icy air, and I’m starting to feel antsy with winter. But today pure sunshine reflecting off the snow and spilling onto the hot pink flowers on the windowsill. It was weekend of long naps; of using a winch to get the truck out of a snowbank; of cheap red wine and good friends with toddlers running pell-mell; of a handful of quiet moments with a magazine on the couch, coffee cup in hand, its sweet fragrance rising up with the steam.
Also, it was a weekend of roller coaster emotions. In one instance I’m sure we’re in it for the long haul: we’re standing together in the sunlight in the kitchen, arms around each other, kissing, while our kid eats kiwi circles; and then in another instance we’re off kilter, unintended words tumbling like the triangular blocks at the top of the tower that make the whole castle fall, a geometric mess of shapes onto the floor.
Right now for us there is no room for error, no space for careless words, for passive teasing, for jagged edges. It’s like we’re always at square one, tossing the rock, jumping forward, trying not to land on the chalked lines, but doing so anyway. Remember that game? I used to play it for hours in the school yard. Now the stakes are high. Sometimes I wonder if we’d be better off just friends and co-parents, it would be easier, maybe. Other times I can hardly fathom how much I love, or how perfectly my body fits against his, heart to heart in an embrace.
I really want to know, what is the bedrock that holds you together with the one you love? What connects you? What make you certain?