How Lucky Am I?

I suppose we’ve all done it at some point: laid alongside a partner at night, not yet sleepy while they’re dead to the world, and looked at them to just feel a sense of amazement and happiness that they’re there.

I know I have, at least, with each partner at some point – and I think it is equal parts joy, comfort, and sheer disbelief on each occasion – the latter stemming from my own insecurities. And that’s how I know that these moments are universal.

There’s a sermon my father often gives at weddings where he talks about how each of us looks at our partners and thinks they see the worst parts that we know about ourselves in our halves, which is part of why we feel so lucky when someone wants to spend their time with us.

It rings true with everyone there, I’ve seen people of all ages nodding along as he tells us to hold on to that wonder and awe about our partners. And by extension it’s how I know that as much as I can’t believe that I’m lucky enough to fall asleep with Lady M, that when she says the same that it is also true, and coming from the same place.

It is something I treasure, and feel renewed by every time I notice it.