Years from Now
Years from now, I hope we’ll be sipping cups of coffee together. Just you and me on a comfy couch, on such a laid back, breezy day of early summer as this, and the outside world shuts down for a moment. I hope we’ll be taking in the lingering aftertaste of sweetness as we gulp down the bitterness. I hope we’ll be laughing over midnight latte, kissing cappucino foam off each other’s lips, holding hands through the addictive acrimony of expresso cups’ and life’s. I hope to count my years in morning cups of coffee, waking up next to you.
Years from now, I hope we’ll be doing the dishes together. Warm, bubbly water and the quiet conversation we whisper back and forth. Chunks of your crazy day at work, my terrible lunch across the street from the office, my new dress, a friend from high school you bumped into, a new word our little girl learned today. As the city’s blinding lights dim down and the night quiets, we are by our kitchen sink, soaked in the comfort of each other’s company. And I will still feel that familiar warmth down my spine as our hands meet underwater, just like the first time they did when we were sixteen.
Years from now, I hope you will have the patience to force the lazy ass of a person I am to the gym. And put me on a treadmill and get me to do the dreaded pushups and situps and burpees. And later on we’ll be heading to dinner together, and it’s your treat because I actually listened to you and broke a sweat. I find that very romantic. Not the kind of cinematic, kissing-in-the-rain, throwing-pebbles-at-windows, screaming-I-love-you romantic, but the kind of romantic that gently wakes up your senses and eases off pains. The kind of romantic where you find time to take care of the one you love through the littlest of gestures. The kind of romantic that grows with time and nurtures your soul with time, sneaking in bits of sweetness and slowly invading your mind. The kind of romantic I see us becoming.
Years from now, I hope our hearts can still feel everything ever so deeply. I hope we can still be touched by the most minute of things. Like how I would still shiver as I feel your arms from behind, arms I feel my truest within their embrace. Like how we would still lock eyes and hold hands in secrecy. How we would sneak out of tedious formal dinners, drunk and bouncing-on-air happy, lips together, hands interlaced, souls intertwined. How you would take me on weekend getaways and drive me places. How I would keep a picture of you in a locket, and have it with me always. How we would look back on the incredible times of our younger years, and thrill the kids with the adventures we embarked on together. Kisses and champagne. Letters and whispers. Words said and carved into minds, never to be forgotten. Miles traveled, planes taken. I want our life to be measured in the great little things that pull us deeper in love, every day.
Years from now, our forever will be composed of spectacular nows.
(Many of them).