Simple Moments

You stand over the kitchen sink, cutting tomatoes and cucumbers to mix into the dish that you are preparing for our dinner. On the countertop beside you rests spices, herbs, and the flatbread that will soon be placed in the oven. Your hands move quickly as they continue to chop and mix, undoubtedly accustomed to this routine as they prepare dinner for your unexpected guest.

I stand on the opposite side of the kitchen, my gaze alternating between the rain falling outside and the woman I am in love with. "Do you need any help?" I ask.

"No, I think I've got it," you reply without looking towards me.

You're wearing old pajamas without any makeup on and your hair is still wet from just getting out of the shower, but I can't help but marvel at how beautiful you are. I want to hold you right now. I want to throw my arms around your waist and hug you tightly from behind as you smile and let me kiss your cheek. But I don't do that...not anymore. I don't reach out to hold you because I know you will push me away. I sigh, quietly to escape your notice, and make small talk instead. I ask you some meaningless question about what seasonings go into the meal and comment on the weather while we both feign interest in this hollow conversation. In this moment, when all I want to do is be close to you, I feel more distant than ever before.

I've travelled 1,300 miles to see you, but the last five feet are the hardest to bridge. Though I stand relaxed with arms crossed as I lean against the countertop, my mind races to find the right words. I'm nervous. I don't know what to ask you. I don't know what to say that won't cause you to push me further away. I want to tell you that I love you, that you are the only woman I have ever fallen in love with. I want to tell you that I have changed, that I really am a different man now, a man whose wanderlust and immaturity have been replaced by a deep desire to have a committed relationship with you. In this moment, as we stand beside one another in your kitchen, I want to pour out all of the love that overflows from my heart...the love that burns only for you. These are the conversations that I want to have with you Ornela, these deep conversations where we bare our feelings and souls to each other and grow closer because of it.

"Dinner looks great," I say as we sit down at your kitchen table to eat.

You smile, but do not reply.          

I wish I knew the feelings behind that smile. I wish I knew what you are feeling right now as you serve me dinner. If you could see my feelings as we sit together and eat, you would know that this moment with you is the happiest I have been in weeks. You would know that my imagination is running wild, and it is giving me a glimpse into our life together. I don't see the distant woman who I have not held in three years. I see my wife. I don't see an apartment kitchen that you share with three roommates. I see our home. I see a life that we have built together, a life shared as a loving couple who take their greatest pleasure in simply being together. I see all of this over a home cooked meal at a kitchen table...because we are sharing this simplest of moments together. I see not only the life we should have shared together, but the one we still can. 

You probably think it very silly of me to romanticize something as simple as having dinner together, something that probably meant nothing to you. But that moment with you meant everything to me. You see Ornela, it is not the passionate moments of physical intimacy that bind two souls together. Nor is it some spectacular showcase of adoration that caused me to give you my heart. It is the simple moments, like the one we shared together over a meal that you prepared just for me, that show me what an incredible woman you truly are. It is the simple moments that show me why I love you.