on cohabitation
notes from the couch
You’re sitting across from me as I write this. It’s snowing outside—not the first snow of the year, but the first that will stick around. The moonlight just barely peeks through my third-floor window, diffused and broken by the arms of that giant oak tree. The first time you came over was in August, when she still held all her leaves. It’s December now, and she has shed her skin.
The tan throw blanket my parents bought when I moved into this apartment drapes across us. Your feet, small and cold, rest on my thigh. The cat is sleeping on your chest and I can hear her purrs from across the couch. Sounds of gentle guitar music and your little character running around on “our” Animal Crossing island radiate from the TV. The ornaments we bought at the thrift store this morning hang on the Christmas tree in the corner; you simply had to have the pink cat with a jingle bell on its collar. A candle I found a few weeks ago while helping pack up your closet burns on the coffee table, filling the room with the smell of berries and champagne. Next to it sits the untouched peppermint tea I made you an hour ago. I’ve warmed it up three times now, and I’ll do it again as many times as you want.
You asked a few minutes ago if you could try on my glasses “to see how blind you are.” Of course, I handed them over immediately. You’re still wearing them for some reason, but that’s ok. You look beautiful: hair a little greasy, and messy from the black hoodie you stole from me. Eyes a little glassy from the prescription of my glasses. Lips a little cracked from the dry winter air.
I’ve never been this happy before. Every morning when I wake up next to you, every night when you fall asleep in my arms, my heart aches. She has never been so full. No matter what language I use, “I love you” is never enough. I say it, and I say it again. The tea stays cold, the cat stays asleep, your hair stays greasy, the candle keeps burning, and I say it again. I don’t know what else to do with how full this feels.
We just made eye contact and I’ve been caught staring. You let out a self-conscious giggle, pull the hood of your (my) hoodie a little higher, kick your feet with delight, and turn back to the TV with a smile. I may have been caught, but I’m still staring.
I could spend a lifetime on this couch with you.
wow! this is so beautiful. i could feel the love through the screen. this is amazing!!
This was so warm and cozy and delightful to read. It made me smile to read that you were happy, and I can really believe it in this scene you set. On Animal Crossing, what is your island's main fruit? Mine was peaches, but I had really wanted to get cherries.
Oh, and while it's still warm to the touch... this line I was especially fond of:
"Next to it sits the untouched peppermint tea I made you an hour ago. I’ve warmed it up three times now, and I’ll do it again as many times as you want."
Reminded me of an old friend, she'd always put the kettle on for me in the evenings even though she didn't drink tea - I didn't even ask, it was a love language. Reading this, it made me smile all over again.