They

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He is still in bed when she strides across the far end of the room, long legs flashing in tantalizing glimpses from the midnight blue silk robe that billows around her as she moves.  He bought her that robe, had it waiting for her the first time she spent the night.  It was a lot of money, even back then, at a time when he could least afford to spend it.  Yet there had never been any question that she should have it.  From the minute he saw the intricately stitched dragons that decorated the hem he knew it was for her.  There was far less of her now than there had been then, the result of her ongoing quest to be the woman she felt he deserved.  He, in turn, had a hard time believing she even gave him the time of day.  After a lifetime of having just about any woman he set his sights on he had been hesitant and a little shy from the very first with her.  Her radiant sparkly being took his very breath.  He had shared a quote, in passing on their first encounter, a reflection which he had barely known he spoke out loud, but she had heard it and spent months wondering if he had been saying it about her or as just a stray comment in passing.  She wondered.  He can’t imagine her wondering, yet she did – hesitant to know the truth that would break the spell and end the possibility.

Throwing open the French doors at the end of the room she moves back the other way again, bound now for the shower after what was probably a brutal workout.  The silk billows around her.  She knows it drives him crazy when she wears it thrown on like this, offering breathtaking glimpses of her as she strides.  Strides.  She strides everywhere.  Purpose, grace, dignity, intent.  She moves through the world as one accustomed to being looked at though in all truth that is a relatively new experience for her.  Having almost surrendered her mobility to errored thinking and a lifetime of poor choices she loves to move; walk, stride, skip, dance – and he loves to watch her.  He closes his eyes and listens to the sounds coming from the bathroom, the shower is on… she begins to hum as she adjusts the temperature, he imagines the soft sigh as the silk robe slides from her into an untidy heap on the floor.

Soon she returns, softer from the shower, moving with a new ease and grace after having washed away the sweat and loosened hard-worked muscles.  She has her hair up in a clip, he loves it like that, leaving little curls across the nape of her neck.  Now her movements are focussed.  She moves to the desk, pulls her laptop out of it’s case, snaps it open and turns it on in one effortless move.  It’s time to work.  He smiles.  These are her hours – the early morning hours till lunchtime.  He is expected to sleep for awhile yet, lulled by the tap-tap-tapping of her fingers on the keyboard.  Soon the kids will get up.  Her children.  Amazing children who have found their way into his heart as surely and deeply as she has.  He can not believe that he is so blessed to be able to think of them as family, as his family.  He will get up and take them out of the house, buying her those important morning hours, perhaps a walk along the beach, or kayaking in the surf.  This is a working vacation she had insisted, never wavering from the rhythm that they had established as easily as breathing from the first time they shared more than an hour at a time.

It was amazing to him, who had just discovered a real rhythm of his own, how instinctively they had found a rhythm for sharing themselves with each other that honoured Who They Were, what they had to do, and found a way to make more of each of them.  Slowly they had gotten to know each other neither sure how the other felt, both hesitant to say anything to frighten the other away.  They had each decided to settle for friendship – though each thought the other must SURELY know how they felt.  Eventually, clarity had dawned and with it a mutual decision to move more slowly than either could bear – to enjoy every single breath of their becoming.  Each took a cue from whom ever was NOT in a hurry on any given day.  They laughed, danced, played, ate, sipped coffee, and talked about everything for hours.

She continued to live her life and he continued to live to live his – though truly his seemed to pale in comparison to hers.  He was a lone wolf, following whatever path called him while her life was an delightfully choreographed event balancing care and responsibility.  Yet through their encounters each one of them found their way to a deeper valuing of their own path.  Moving slow was fine until finally they touched and then the pace seemed exquisite agony.  But each step was to be experienced and savoured – no rush, no finish line, just the now of each heartbeat.  But oh GOD she had the softest lips and she offered them up to his own so completely.

Resolutely he drags his thoughts back from that delightful journey.  Soon, he reminds himself, from lunchtime till bedtime she is all his – a willing and eager partner in life’s grand adventure.  But for now, she is working.  That in itself is worth watching.

The computer powers up, she settles into the chair, take a deep breath, and stills herself.  He knows what she’s doing, yet it never ceases to amaze him how easily she makes the transition into the Flow.  Her breathing quiets and her eyes close as her finger hover over the keyboard.  Suddenly she begins to type, her fingers flying to an inner dictation known only to her.  The ideas which are her bread and butter, but even more her very heart and soul, pour out of her fingertips to be translated into unforgettable phrases on the screen.  It is the same with him when he settles to write at the end of the day, after her breathing has deepened and evened with sleep.  Then he will slide from between the sheets where he had held her until sleep took her, pull on his own work clothes and settle in the same desk chair, writing to the sound of her sleeping.

The hours in between working they live their pleasure in a life populated by children, animals, and each other.  They spend those hours exploring the world around them, the inner topography of their thoughts, and the breathtaking joy of mutual discovery.  There was a time he didn’t know her – but unbeknownst to him he’d been looking for her all his life.

*********

She knows he’s awake as she moves about the room.  His breathing has changed and he stirs occasionally.  She is afraid to look at him, or her resolve will fade and the piece of work struggling to be born will not find its way to light.  Well, that’s not exactly true, since it’s HER piece and nothing can truly be lost.  As she crosses to the windows she knows he’s watching her.  If she turns she knows she will see those deep eyes fixed on her, and he will smile and there will be no keeping her out of his arms.  He watches her and she loves it.  No other human has ever looked at her with such intensity and warmth.  In fact, she suspects that he has seen her, knows her, even better than she knows herself.  From the very first it seemed that with his unwavering gaze he recognized gifts and talents that she was only vaguely aware of.  His presence called out her light. She has wished, on more than one occasion, that she could see herself though his eyes.  Most days she feels like a flawed reflection of the woman she sees in his gaze, no, not flawed, incomplete.  It is like he sees the finished product, sees Who She Was, while she has to live the process of becoming.  That, she suspected, went two ways.

The first time they met an extraordinary conversation had ensued.  It was his way.  He collected amazing people about him the way a jeweler collects the world’s most precious gems his conversations carving past the excess right to the gleaming heart of the other.  What he saw was their gifts, their abilities, and had a knack for connecting the right people at the right times.  He trusted his hopeful instincts about others in a way that most people don’t and as a result had found him self at the center of some spectacular events.  She loved to watch him work, watch him interact with others and get caught up in the excitement of the possibilities he sensed within them. He had no guile in him and people trusted him without hesitation.  She had.  From the moment she began to sense his vision of her, of Who She Was and what she had to offer the world, she had surrendered to his process.  From the first time that she had seen the good-natured sparkle of the Divine in his eyes she had been his in whatever way the Universe saw fit to connect them.  His connection to the Universe spoke directly to her heart.  And he so didn’t see it.  That was the beautiful part.  He didn’t know his own strengths and talents any better than she knew hers – he was amazed by her surrender every single time she offered it.  No matter the encounter he was delighted that she was there sharing it with him.  She, on the other hand, couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

Hours later her fingers paused at their work.  The piece had been written, re-read, edited, and re-written.  Now she would have him look at it, because he delighted in being the first set of eyes to peruse her work and because his comments were insightful and informed.  There was a stirring behind her, followed by quiet footsteps on the carpet.  Without interrupting her he crossed to the bathroom and then went to check on the noises which had begun to emerge from the main room of the unit.  She suspected the kids had ordered up a video game and were taking turns battling zombies or blowing things up.  She sat silently, her hands in her lap and listened to the snippets of conversation that floated through the door.  He was checking in with them.  Teasing, laughing, offering suggestions for how they might spend the rest of the morning.  Closing her eyes she let herself bask in the sweetness of those noises.  Just before he had entered their lives the three of them had finally found their way to family after a long road of healing.  They had just developed the kind of safety, hope, and unity that other families can’t even begin to imagine.  He entered their circle and was drawn, effortlessly, into it.  The exchange, the increase of light and love in all their lives – his included, had been exponential allowing for healing in places where each one of them had not even known they had wounds.  It was a wonder how things unfolded when one just stayed out of the way.

The silence in the main room was broken by a few more sentences, more laughter, and quiet assent then the bedroom door opened and he entered carrying two steaming mugs of, she assumed, coffee.  She turned the chair toward him as he closed the door and was looking directly at him as he turned to move toward her.  He paused, his eyes meeting hers, and then smiled in response to the expression on her face.

“No WAY you’re going kayaking without me!”  she exclaimed and his smile became a grin as he crossed the room to hand her a coffee mug.  She rose to meet him, taking both coffee mugs from him she placed them deliberately on the desk and stepped into his embrace offering up her lips for his consideration.  After responding to her offer with due deliberation he raised his head and grinned down at her.  “You’re supposed to be working” he teased.

“No,” she disagree, “I’m on vacation.”  He bent down to kiss her again then, sending out a silent prayer of gratitude.  Her prayer met his and they moved closer celebrating the wonder of a new every moment love caught up in the timeless space between heartbeats, the place where they had been born.