January 19, 2023, 05:36 PM
The Fox's Glade, all dressed up in winter finery; @Merrit at her side. It reminded her of the day they'd met in some ways. Winter had hung loose on the forest that day, like last year's coat worn thin. She'd found him at a grave. She'd seen the shadows in his eyes and wanted nothing more than to be the light that chased them away.
She didn't think she was, in the end. Their love had started out a quick, thoughtless thing; a crooked tie, a wrinkled sock, nothing quite wrong but hastily made. Then their children were born, and everything changed. Being thoughtless wasn't an option when suddenly the most precious thing in the world existed, and it was yours, and it depended wholly on you. And it felt like she'd thought of everything, in those first months! Always thinking, always worrying about the future, about how she would fare as a mother. Merrit had been a solid and steadying presence, but she had worried about him too, until the day his stone walls crumbled and he confessed his own fears, and she finally found a voice to tell him that she loved him; that he didn't have to be afraid because they would figure it out together, like they always did.
It could have been different; their love could have been left forgotten in all the changes, all the sudden responsibility. Instead it changed as their worlds did. They straightened the edges, smoothed the wrinkles, fit each other into their own lives in the same quiet and tireless and instinctive way they did with their children. Yakone never questioned the love between them, and if Merrit ever did, he hid it well. He was at her side through all of it: the joy and anxiety, the constant contradicting realizations of parenthood as their children grew and changed, the pressure to always know what to do and what was best. The pain of letting go.
And one day — she couldn't remember when, really, just another day as they all were — she'd looked at him and thought that he looked happier. She'd realized she was happier too. They had built a life together, and in the end, that was what chased the shadows from Merrit's gaze.
Now their children were grown and finding their own ways, but it didn't feel like an ending. It felt like another beginning, and Yakone was certain that it would always feel so with Merrit at her side.
Suddenly nothing would do but that she pull him close, kiss him.
She didn't think she was, in the end. Their love had started out a quick, thoughtless thing; a crooked tie, a wrinkled sock, nothing quite wrong but hastily made. Then their children were born, and everything changed. Being thoughtless wasn't an option when suddenly the most precious thing in the world existed, and it was yours, and it depended wholly on you. And it felt like she'd thought of everything, in those first months! Always thinking, always worrying about the future, about how she would fare as a mother. Merrit had been a solid and steadying presence, but she had worried about him too, until the day his stone walls crumbled and he confessed his own fears, and she finally found a voice to tell him that she loved him; that he didn't have to be afraid because they would figure it out together, like they always did.
It could have been different; their love could have been left forgotten in all the changes, all the sudden responsibility. Instead it changed as their worlds did. They straightened the edges, smoothed the wrinkles, fit each other into their own lives in the same quiet and tireless and instinctive way they did with their children. Yakone never questioned the love between them, and if Merrit ever did, he hid it well. He was at her side through all of it: the joy and anxiety, the constant contradicting realizations of parenthood as their children grew and changed, the pressure to always know what to do and what was best. The pain of letting go.
And one day — she couldn't remember when, really, just another day as they all were — she'd looked at him and thought that he looked happier. She'd realized she was happier too. They had built a life together, and in the end, that was what chased the shadows from Merrit's gaze.
Now their children were grown and finding their own ways, but it didn't feel like an ending. It felt like another beginning, and Yakone was certain that it would always feel so with Merrit at her side.
Do you remember when I found you here?Soft, the first words she'd spoken in many miles. Yakone still preferred silence, but sometimes, when the time was right and it was only her and Merrit and silence all around them, a mood would take hold of her and she would find herself speaking of many things. She looked at him now with a glitter in her eyes, a faint smile playing on her lips, and started to lead him to that first place. The grave, where they'd met.
I loved you the moment I saw you,A confession she'd never really made, because it had never felt like the right time; he knew that she loved him, but she'd never thought to tell him when that happened. She stopped a moment to look at him again, really look at him. His face was so familiar to her now, a beautiful constant like the sunrise.
I've loved you more every day since.
Suddenly nothing would do but that she pull him close, kiss him.
And I'll love you more every day until time stops forever.