My beloved K

     I often stop what I'm doing and stare at K.  I like to take notice of him in moments when he has no idea I'm intently studying him.  No matter if we've been connected or distanced, happy or angry, in those moments when I get to watch him my heart swells with such an immense amount of love that I usually have to reach out and touch him just to relieve the pressure. 

     I make special note of what he does. I see the way he bites his bottom lip in concentrated thought so that the patch of hair directly beneath it pokes out straight. I watch him absentmindedly stroke his beard over and over and over, so much that I wonder how his hand doesn't get a little numbed from the courseness of the feeling.  I watch the way he thins out his lips into a tight purse and sighs so deep that it still startles me. 

     He looks a little different, too, each time I do this.  The patch of gray on the right side of his beard has grown just a bit more.  His eyes, always alert, are the same wonderful brown ones I've always looked into except this time they look more tired, or frustrated, or excited.  Depending on the day, his shoulders are more slumped and his brow more furrowed...or else he stands tall, his looming presence full of vigor and cheer. 

    When he's doing a goofy dance to get my attention I notice the way his facial expression is asking me a question...will this make you smile...while he waits for my response.   The answer, as always, is yes.


I'm glad to live this life by his side.