I want early mornings, leaning across the pillow to give you a tired kiss on the cheek.
I want your arm hanging lazily over my shoulder, absentmindedly pulling me to you as you fall asleep.
I want breakfast, shared in bed with one fork and one big plate.
I want our feet to be touching under the blankets.
I want to feel the softness of your cheek against mine, and the warmth of your hand when it’s pressed into my palm.
I want our arms linked as we cross the busy street, or our feet walking in rhythm down the sidewalk, left-right-left-right.
I want ‘good mornings,’ face-to-face before we both leave for work, or texted with a smiley face, just as a reminder that we’re thinking of one another.
I want our shoes off after a long day, wiggling our toes freely in each other’s laps.
I want all the silly things, the tiny things, the little things we so often overlook. The small pieces of our lives that are precious, simply because we’re blessed with one another. Yes, I want all of that, and I want to celebrate it.
I want a shared apartment key—our place, our home.
I want whispered secrets under the covers late at night, sharing slivers of our soul.
I want fights over the TV remote, over what to have for dinner, over who has more blankets on their side of the bed.
I want to argue then laugh, holding each other and kissing smiles onto one another’s lips.
I want to get dressed together in the morning, walking carefully around each other, and attempting to share the small space in the bathroom.
I want two toothbrushes in the container by the sink.
I want the smell of your shaving cream mixed with my perfume.
I want two gallons of milk in the fridge, because you drink 2% and I prefer skim.
I want two pairs of shoes by the front door, yours and mine, both muddy and worn from our walks in the park.
I want to wake up to you, fall asleep to you, be comforted by the tone of your voice. I want to know who you are, to discover all the teeny-tiny parts that make you, you. And I want you to know me, fully, completely.
I want notes left on the countertops for each other, with little hearts drawn in the corner.
I want shared grocery lists, with our scribbled handwriting taking turns on each line.
I want nights where we admire the sunset, and other nights where we curl up and watch TV.
I want dishes in the sink and washing them together, blowing bubbles in each other’s faces.
I want fuzzy socks, and tickling your feet with my toes.
I want you to kiss my forehead and for me to smile in return.
I want us to laugh uncontrollably at jokes then look at each other and realize how perfectly imperfect we are together.
There are so many beautiful things I want with you—so small, but so meaningful. These little things that make us real, that sew us together, that remind us that every day is beautiful. And every day together is a gift.