|This is my fairy tale.|
I debated back and forth about whether or not to share both of these little writing pieces. They were done as an exercise. One is playful and heartwarming. The other is extremely personal, but very sweet.
Alas, I loved them both so I’m just going to throw them your way and see what happens. Thanks to Leslie for her brilliant mind and reminding me once more why I fell for my husband. These words have re-created two of the greatest pictures I hold in my mind.
I hear soft giggles and the tapping of feet coming from the living room. My husband’s deep baritone bounces off the walls. I tip toe around the corner to watch the mischief and my heart smiles.
The playful notes of salsa music float around me and tickle my ears. My hips start to swing as the beat washes over me. Hector is holding our daughter tight in his arms. Her cheeks are round and flushed, eyes glistening with joy.
This is love. This is peace. This is my home.
I join in and grasp my husband’s free hand. Time passes without a single worry or needless concern. These are the moments I live for.
Him, her, me, us. I could survive without them, but like flowers they do not flourish without the sun. What’s a flower if there is no color, no smell, no radiant life?
They are my sun. They are my heart. They are my home.
My high heels scratch across the surface of the hotel carpet. Dancing all night had ruined them. I pull my train up from behind me and shove my dress through the door.
This was it. We were here.
I swallow nervously as I take in the untouched bed, clean sheets & anxious cloud of want that descended when he shut the door behind him. I place a hand at the edge of the comforter and drag my fingertips across the white linen. Looking back over my shoulder I smile as he fidgets with his suit jacket.
He’s scared too.
I take a seat on the chair in the corner and unlock the thin straps around my ankles. Gently, I place them side by side on the floor and wiggle my toes.
My husband takes a seat on the bed, his hands aggressively rubbing the flesh across his knuckles. He looks up at me and smiles shyly. My head tilts to the right, cheeks blushing in response.
“So Wife, what do you want to do?” he says softly.
“I thought it was obvious babe. What else are we suppose to do?” I ask.
“Well, we can count the money we got.” he says with uncertainty.
“Okay. I bet I made more than you! People always like the bride more than the groom. Right?”
“Does it matter? It’s all our money anyways.”
“Yes. Yes, it is.” I jump on the bed and start pouncing on the perfectly creased sheets, while kicking all the pillows to the floor.
“That dress is enormous. You can’t be comfortable. Want me to help you take it off?”
I stop jumping mid-air. My heart freezes. I wanted to be here. I wanted this, but why was I hesitating? I sit down slowly next to him. My legs dangle from the bed, too short to reach the floor. My eyes trail up his body and rest on his lips. “Okay.” I whisper.
I stand up and turn my back toward him. He runs his hand up the back of my right arm, across my shoulder blade and then finally comes to rest on the top of my zipper.
My legs begin to shake as a hungry anticipation awakens inside. His fingers pull down and the cool air tingles as it runs across my anxious flesh.
This was it.
I turn to face him as my dress opens up. I hold the front against me afraid to let it go. His hands gently grab my wrists and he pulls them away. The dress falls into a mound of snow as the heat in the room centers within his eyes.
My lips part and I smile. He is pleased. He loves me and I him. My fear runs away as his passion overcomes my insecurities.
I would’ve waited even longer for him and I’m so glad he waited for me.