Sometimes, when it’s still and it seems as if time has stopped, I will watch Beloved sleep and wonder what if. What if a chance encounter, a brief meeting with a mutual friend, hadn’t happened. I wonder what he would be doing if things had been different.

Sometimes, when he has his head buried in a book, I will look at Beloved and marvel at how I’m not just thrilled to have him in my life, but to want of future of days watching him reading.

Other times, as he explains to me the exact method to make the perfect tea or why he needs a bit of salt in his coffee, I wonder if I will ever grow tired of these conversations.

Years ago, I vowed that I was happy not seeing the same face across the table from me each morning. I vowed not to become enthralled with the routine to the point that I was lulled into boredom.

But I tripped through Beloved’s wires, or he worked his way through a crack in my armor, and there he is. The same face greets me each morning, and I am not yet bored by it. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve heard about the tannins in tea and how they can affect bitterness. I don’t mind because it’s Beloved telling me this over and over again as he carefully makes his tea as if his very life depends upon it.

The spark I felt once upon a time is still there, and if the crease between his brows is deeper now, I don’t mind at all.