Under the Mistletoe

I saw him Friday night and he left Saturday morning. Somehow, when I am not with him, it feels like an eternity. I lay there waiting for him to get there and listening to music. One particular song sent me to memories of Christmas and the loss of my mother and many many tears.

I decided to rinse my face off so that when he saw me it didn't look like I had been crying my head off.

I listened to the song again the next day, Saturday, and only a few tears.

I drove to his house again and once again, lovely weather and a lovely drive. The problem with these beautiful drives is I want to get out of the Jeep and photograph. Alas, I trek on, as stopping will take me longer to get to him. I drove up and he was putting decorations up outside.

I stepped out of the Jeep and he stopped what he was doing and we met in the middle. I looked at him and smiled, grabbing his shirt and pulling him to me and stole a kiss or four. I point at the shirt with my finger, and trace it down the length of his torso. "This is the shirt you wore on our first date," I say with a smile.

"Oh it is? I just remember going out and getting a few nice shirts because I knew we would be going out, and then you told me you were wearing a t shirt and shorts."

I behaved as though I was heartbroken that he didn't know what he had on that day and then laughed. "I remember the date, does that count," he asks, as though he is in some kind of trouble. I tell him of course it does.

We get some things done outside and venture into the house. A bit later we go out to eat and come home to snuggle and cuddle. My all time favorite thing in the world.

We both shower and watch a little tv and soon it is time for bed. I walk into the kitchen to get a last sip of water and he follows me in, standing where the kitchen and dining room meet.

I look at him and wonder what he is doing. As I move closer to him his smile grows bigger as he stands there in the same spot. His hand points upward and I follow its direction and smile. Mistletoe. I walk to him and take his head in my hands and give him our first kiss ever under the mistletoe.

Laying in bed now we face one another. My hand runs up and down his back and his stays running its fingers through my hair. He plays with my ear just a bit and rubs my face, kissing me. I imagine this went on for about fifteen minutes or so and he kisses my nose and forehead. "Nighty-night, sweetie. I love you."

Does it get any better? I actually think it does, and will, but right now, this very moment, my life has never been as good as it feels right now.