In another life, I’m folding laundry and hear you singing to our daughter in the next room. You are steady and I don’t feel like I’m living something I need to escape from.
In another life, I cook and you clean and we laugh at the kids we used to be. You bring me coffee in bed on Sunday mornings and never get exhausted of me telling you how much I love you.
In another life, our love isn’t dependent on either of us healing and we never reach a season where we have to walk away.
In another life, you find your way to me and I to you and being with you is the easiest part of existing.