The journey of love is a journey of many sweet knowings. It is the sweet bliss, in first love, of discovering all your love’s little secrets, her favorite flower and fragrance, the color that sets off her eyes so; his plaid flannel shirt, the way he laces up his boots, his shaving brush, and that one wild hair in his eyebrow; the scent of her skin, the feel of her hair, the drawer she keeps her lingerie in.
It’s later, the being together of love, the sound of the key as he locks up the house, of the rain in the shower each morning, as, singing, she washes her hair. It is how she rolls over at night in bed, how he sleeps, like a saint, with his hands folded over his chest; it is what he can fix; what she can mend.
And it is the changing, this way and that way. Arguing. There are the…
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