We are on our yearly get away, sans children. It is something we both look forward to all year. October comes and we begin speaking of our planned getaway. As in, “We just have to make it a few more months…”. Especially during the hectic, trying times.
By the time Christmas has arrived, the reservations have been made. We simply tread water for the next six days. Waiting. Hoping and praying no one gets sick. 
We buy snacks. New clothes. Research good places to eat. Fun things to try. Packing happens the night before we leave. In frenzied excitement and hushed tones. We kiss. Hold hands. Dream out loud.
The first day is a blur of fatigue and unpacking. Settling in. The second holds the promise of relaxation,but doesn’t quite deliver. It is the next day that I always look forward too. The third feels somewhat dreamy. Slow paced and perfect. I find myself relaxed. Looking at him. Really looking at him. Listening to him talk. Flirting. Remembering why I wanted to have children with him in the first place. He is funny. Thoughtful. Attentive. Even romantic. He hangs on my every word, while I find myself blushing by his full attention. Yes. Day three is my favorite.
Today is Day Three of this years trip. The turning point. When I, once again, am stunned by the force of my love for him. His love for me. It is there in our home, every day. Buried under the baskets of unmatched socks. Wedged in between the dog, kids, four pillows, and remote control in our king sized bed. Quiet. Often unremarkable. But when removed from it’s native environment, our love steals the show. It isn’t tame or civilized. It is loud and showy. We are no longer reserved. We laugh and kiss and laugh some more.
Day three is also bitter sweet. Our time together is almost over. Real life is just around the corner. Bills, potty training, and a hundred unaswerable questions a day are waiting.
But for now, there are only the two of us.
He is resting there in the bed. Covered in clean white sheets. His breath slow and steady. I close my eyes. Listening. Memorizing the way he sounds. The way he looks. Loving this moment.
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