I’ve always been one to become wrapped up in the minutiae, in the details that make an interaction meaningful. It’s the comfort in the ordinary moments that mean more than any extravagant measure.
It’s seeing you walk toward me, hair slightly mussed, with that smile in your eyes.
It’s sitting across from you, stealing glances over the tops of our computers while we work.
It’s the time spent sharing stories of our growing up years, realizing how similar they were.
It’s spending the day with you and having you eagerly ask to see me again the next day.
It’s perusing the aisles in the grocery store, watching you hem and haw over ingredients.
It’s taking the dog for a walk in the fog while you explain just how much he means to you.
It’s making dinner in your cozy little kitchen with wine in hand and music softly playing.
It’s falling asleep with our hands intertwined atop your chest, lulled by your rising / falling.
It’s you softly resting your lips against my shoulder with eyes closed before falling to sleep.
These little things spark feelings and fuel attachment.