By Brie Gowen
Sometimes I sit comfortably at the end of the day watching you across the room. The easy silence settles between us as we relax collectively. We pick up conversation at intermittent intervals, never missing a beat even as the shared stories from our day come and go in snippets. So secure are we in one another’s company that we can even nod agreeably before the next word is spoken. And silence? Even it speaks volumes.
What was life like before us?
It’s a question I don’t like to ask, but in all truthfulness I can barely recall.
I mean, what was it like to try my hardest to say something extremely clever to make you crack a smile?
Our shared humor just flows now.
What was it like to worry I might say the wrong thing, or to worry exactly what I should say?
Now, I anticipate your reaction before it even occurs. We finish each other’s sentences for goodness sake.
But what was it like to worry about messing it all up with something as trivial as a disagreement?
I rest easy, now, knowing that your love for me is unconditional. So even when we argue it doesn’t rock our foundation.
What was it like to worry that my physical appearance needed to be perfect to keep you interested?