Wednesday
January 2, 2019
I am careful when opening the front door tonight, the lights were off in the apartment which meant that Laurel must’ve already climbed into bed. It is not rare for her to be asleep when I come home, in fact it is something I’ve come to treasure about her. Since I met her halfway through her nursing degree she has been firing on all cylinders, thinking and working as if her very life depended on it. It is inspiring, really, the velocity and precision with which she broods. I always try to make sure she knows how much I admire her quickness and intellect, whether it be through flowers, poems, or nights like these. I had come home hoping to sweep her up in my arms, lay her on her back, and give her kisses warm enough to make her heart race as fast as her mind does. Not tonight, though, she must be exhausted. She should sleep.