the kids are inside

the kids are inside, and we have gone to the back yard to sit in lawn chairs. the sun is highlighting her hair, and we are talking about the things we have to do, the things we've done. the things we have planned.

i look over, and there's a catch in my breath. years we've spent together, faced demons, and angels, became gods with one another.

she is beautiful.

i wonder about the future, what new challenges and victories it will bring. we speak of planting the garden, and work, and all the trifling things. enjoying the company of one another, in the spring.

there is a point in the conversation where she pauses, and I see her go back to the inside places. the places she rarely shares. her mouth tightens, and she takes a sip of our shared drink, and i wonder what thing she is remembering. if she will share, and if i dare ask, what are you thinking?

spring times past, or gardens planted? land furrowed with intent, as our garden is before us? something dark, or difficult?

she looks over, and sees me seeing her, and she smiles at me. pleased, if not happy. content, if not fulfilled. she was born hungry, for life and what it might bring, and there's that un-satisfaction that we have in common, it's not finished yet, there's more to do, and we have to keep on with the work, and the work, and the Work.

but for now, we have the moment, and she reaches over, and holds my hand.