Ten

Together we’ve grown a history, a family, laugh lines, perspective.
There's a Morse code of married in the way I catch an I love you smile tossed at my feet and recognize it as a plea for me to do the bath-books-bedtime routine, in the way our eyes meet at a dinner party, telegraphing time to go, in the way a hand stretches under covers in silent apology.

Ten 29ths later, my hands meet in the same spot behind his back as I lean in for a kiss.  His lips taste like sunshine, just like every summer, just like they did when we were sixteen and sneaking kisses at the swimming pool.  I’m so glad we picked each other for all these days.

JEB