The heart of romance...

Last night, when we were talking, you shared something with me that put into words a feeling I had never quite been able to. I want to put it here, so we can always remember.

“I missed somebody that enjoys the same things I do (doesn’t have to be exactly everything, but more than just a few). Like, breakfast for example. It was so intimate (an intimate breakfast wtf), like truly somebody that would appreciate at heart the little moments here and there.

I don’t know if you understand, but I think you do.

Like it’s different, lighting a candle, and having dinner, compared to light a candle, have dinner. Do you see what I mean?”

I've tried so hard my whole life to define the heart of my sense of romance, and that's it. It's the small, everyday moments that share intention and intimacy, the way we made breakfast together, or told song stories by the light of a candle (you were so achingly beautiful in the candlelight, my love). Whatever we did, from the most thoughtful to the most mundane, there was a shared sense of presence, and the sweet joy that came with just being together. It was, is, it's own sort of magic, and one I've never shared with anyone before. Till you. I love you, my beloved, and I can't wait to fill our days with romance.