Thoughts for a morning.
Sometimes when I get up and look at my hands still caked in paint and see the remnants of a house well loved, I am reminded about how much T loves me.
Ever patient. Ever Strong. T moves with a quiet spirit one can't deny. His prescence fills our house with a beautiful contemplative silence that matches my own wild joy.
Our shelves are lined with books well loved, and our kitchen stuffed with food ready to eat. Our small home echoes love.
When I see him the whole world lights up for me, and I think that for five years we have loved each other. He is as real, as solid, as any corporeal part of me.
I could spend lifetimes drinking in his words.
Ever patient. Ever Strong. T moves with a quiet spirit one can't deny. His prescence fills our house with a beautiful contemplative silence that matches my own wild joy.
Our shelves are lined with books well loved, and our kitchen stuffed with food ready to eat. Our small home echoes love.
When I see him the whole world lights up for me, and I think that for five years we have loved each other. He is as real, as solid, as any corporeal part of me.
I could spend lifetimes drinking in his words.