It’s night, and together we are letting go
We sit close on the old, soft, raspberry couch, in its third life. We are not close enough to be touching, until I lay my head on your shelf-like shoulder, beer in hand, restful. Our legs are crossed, mine draped over yours, until the cat finds his spot there in your lap. We debate which show to watch tonight, agreeing on something we both find entertaining, sharing a common, easy experience together. It’s quite perfect, for me. Though it is not active, not always intellectual, I close my eyes for a moment and notice how much I love my life.