The morning before . . . I woke briefly as he climbed into bed, squinting at the time on my clock through sleep-blurred eyes. 2:30 a.m. Nothing unusual about that. Such is life being partnered with a night owl who's often hitting the ice at 10-something and cooking up dinner long past midnight.
I stirred as the covers shifted and he snuggled in close. So close. Arm around my waist. Feet crossed. Our interior arms compressed, but neither of us caring. A snuggle this epic was necessary after such a quietly tense, distanced week. A week that brought up so many doubts and feelings I've been ignoring for so long. Is love designed to be a continuous beautiful thing, or is it more of a mosaic? Have I been holding myself back by choosing good over the possibility of something great? Would an "I do" have made a difference?
Our snuggle shape-shifted throughout those early morning hours. Neither one of us wanting to let go. Neither one of us able to. At least not yet.
Shortly after 6:00 a.m., my phone started dinging. Photos of my niece, dressed in her cute little skull-and-crossbones-with-a-hair-bow tee shirt. Ding, ding, ding, that damn chime pulling me out from my slumber, out from that epic embrace. I didn't want to go there. In my sleeping subconscious, this was heaven; but my waking consciousness knew this was the end.
I knew what conversation was in store for that evening. And if he didn't go there, I was going to have to. I didn't want to. I didn't know if I would have the courage. I didn't know if I would have regrets. I only knew that the words we would use could never be taken back. We had to do this with grace. I wasn't about to lose my boyfriend and my best friend in one fell swoop.
