David got up at 4:30 to start writing but told me to call him when I got up and he would come upstairs and have coffee with me. Drinking coffee with me is something new he's started because he knows I love coffee and he loves me. And, as much as I love coffee, I love it more when we're drinking it together. I called him at eight and we went out on the porch. It was a lovely September morning here: low sixties, cool breeze with bright, cloudless sunshine, the plaintive cry of the mourning dove, and the cacophony of other birds singing their morning praises. We drank coffee and read the Bible together. Within a short time, the boys were up and our solitude was disturbed.
David retreated to his office and I started some financial work on my computer--back on the porch--I just couldn't stay inside. David appeared, computer in hand, asking if he could join me. His office was lonely, he said. And so, we worked separately, but together for sometime before he left to spend some time with Samuel.
This evening, we found ourselves back on the porch again. This time, Michael Buble crooned from the radio, while David worked and I sat, with my feet up, taking in the evening sounds and the contentment that welled up inside my soul.
There was nothing about this day that was extraordinary, but rather just an ordinary day made extraordinary by the presence of the man that I've loved for over half of my life.
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