i can see it, a small town on the west coast, not a far drive out of perth, and a tiny little house that’s plenty enough room for the two of us . a wide open verandah and the big windows always open , the salt smell of the ocean drifting on the breeze and all the floral scents of the garden - which is messy but well loved; tall sunflowers ***** between patches of strawberries, endless carrot stalks, iceberg lettuce in the winter, little bushes of tommy toe tomatoes and thyme all year round, an accidental pumpkin patch thriving from a few random seeds left in the compost. a bed like the one we first made love in, memories of that pretty white queen mattress, but it didn’t stay stainless for long -  modest jobs for the both of us, i’d happily spend my days waiting tables by the beach and making coffee for the locals , eclectic and friendly aussies - that spirit can’t be found overseas, that accent will always sound like home - and then to come home to that cosy little bungalow by the beach and cook new foods every night, mostly a disaster but always fun, a mix of all the vegetables from the garden , whatever is in season and we can eat it outside while the sun sets on the day and you compare my eyes to the water of the coast while yours are more like the sky on a cloudy day and i remember how you always said our kids would have ‘the ocean in their eyes’  and  our hunger left unfulfilled after dinner we’ll make a meal out of each other  let’s make love all night  every night  until one day nine months later we may find ourselves blessed with a third pair of eyes to observe the blissful life we’ve created for ourselves in this town  far away from everything we’ve known just comfortable and safe and happy with something physical now to hold us together for a year and 18 more and the rest of forever