As we turn another page in the book of us, this is a new chapter. One that spells K.I.D.S. Our days are punctuated by moments featuring these mite sized creatures we call our own. Our conversations revolve around what they ate, how they did at school and what to do with them once school is out. Our biggest wins are watching our kids join syllables together to form words. To admire the crease between their brows, the look of intense concentration as they sound each letter out before the word pops out and with it, a feeling of exhilaration.
Each morning we wake to a head burrowed in that curve in my waist and tiny feet that rest on your arm. As Laddu sleeps forming a bridge between you and me, I realize there could be no better picture to describe this phase in our married life. As the day ends and the children are safely in bed, we seat ourselves at the dining table relishing a ritual that has been in the making for fourteen years now. We serve ourselves, eat mostly in silence, trading tidbits about our day. The hum of the baby monitor has been a constant presence in the recent years. Even as we scrape our plates clean, we linger, trying to grasp at the few minutes of couple time before we part ways again. You to the television and I to my books.
If the first ten years were all about us individually, the next few have been about the space in the middle. The chunk of time that has been redistributed to parenting. In all of its glorious nothingness. Merry sounds that echo only within the walls of the house. The laughter trapped in the air we breathe. The love that permeates every inch of the enclosed space in which we thrive. In all of its mundaneness is the thing that makes our relationship special. The cannoli that comes unannounced with my pasta one night. The brownie wrapped in paper napkin snuck in from work. The bunch of wild, vibrant flowers that grace our island on a day that marks an occasion only remarkable to the two of us. In the amusement that shines in your eyes when you see me playing on the floor happily with the kids.
On random Sunday afternoons as you download statements and tally up the dollars and cents, conversation meanders to the questions that lay unasked and unanswered. My career. Our finances. In the half-hearted way you ask and I respond, we both know the decision has been made. Yet, we lob and parry and mark that we spoke about it. And let it be. Our boat is in calm waters now. We tread carefully knowing that this peace is fragile. This state of contentment can change anytime. We savor each moment. We look at the horizon together, our hands linked by the little ones in between.