He and I

The kids were dreaming in their beds, the spring rain had given way to evening stars and silence had fallen over our home.  The perfect setting for one of those perfect nights.  The kind of night where the discussion turns easily from the stresses of the day to the wonder of each other.  We shared our day in detail, citing conversations word for word, enjoying insight into the other's world.  We laughed at shared observations and insights.  We stood in the dimly lit kitchen talking that way late into the night until we reluctantly made our way upstairs.  We knelt to pray and then climbed under the sheets to talk and laugh some more.  It reminded me of being 10 again . . .

My best friend and I would sit on the hill that was exactly halfway between our homes (we knew because we counted the steps) and we would talk and talk and talk.  We spent every waking moment together yet somehow there was always something more that needed to be discussed.  As the summer was drawing to a close we had the brilliant idea of writing up a friendship contract.  It was short and to the point, stating that we would be best friends until the end of time.  We signed it and tried to seal it with our blood (we were both too squeamish).  We carefully wrapped it with tissue and placed it in an airtight baggie stolen from her mothers kitchen.  We buried it under a pine tree at the top of our hill and then sat down to watch the sunset, pleased in the knowledge that our friendship would now last the annals of time.

He reminds me of that.  Always more to share, more to learn, more to enjoy.  Maybe I'll ask him if he wants to write up a contract.