The setting sun refracted light off the water like thousands of broken mirrors. There I stood and took in the view, including the angry pink of Chris’ surgery scar, and I felt a gentle leaning into my soul. It was God and he was whispering. “It’s okay Heather. You do not have to be afraid anymore. It’s okay to let go. I’ve got this moment. I’ve got him and I have you.”
Boring is beautiful. Boring is ordinary. While my husband hasn’t chased me down in an airport to profess his undying love for me or shown up at my door in a limo prepared to fly me away from reality, he has walked with me hand in hand thousands of times around the sun. He’s gone to Wal-Mart at Mid-night for milk. He’s helped clean up puke and put money into savings instead towards his dream boat.