What Might Come to Be

Friday, May 27, 2016

am so often given to moments of quiet. 

Both of doubt and of certainty. 

Quiet moments that slip in, like soft beams of sunlight - gentle and weightless, but calm and comforting. Moments that fold around you, a delicate drop of richness and stillness, permeating your skin and hair through to your very soul, to the most silent part of you that cannot always be expressed through words, that is only felt. 

Sometimes I sink into those moments, as John Green said, "slowly and then all at once." And I'm floating, falling so very gently and slowly, slipping into what is and what could be...

And I can see, can feel what might come to be. 

The cool weight of a slim golden ring on my hand. The gentle dip in the bed as he slides out and pauses on the edge. The soft, almost featherlight brush of his hand against my hair and the faint warmth of his palm on my shoulder, his morning ritual before standing to begin the day. The clear slits of light tumbling through the blinds, falling over the edge of the crumpled comforter and scuffed wooden floors.

The quiet babbling of little ones in the next room mingling with his low timbre of their morning dialogue, and the comforting creaking of feet against floor as they journey to the kitchen. The rich scent of black coffee deliciously wafting into the room with the faint, far-off hum and gurgle of the coffeepot, accompanied by the faint clink of dishes against the table.

Mere moments that feel as real, as deep with certainty, as the sheets against my skin. Then my eyes open, and I wake up, but always with a secret smile as I hold those moments close and safe and warm. 

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Léas said...

Jacqueline said...

Hi Grace,

I have loved reading your blog over the years. :) This was a beautiful post. Sometimes I feel the same way. There's something that could happen, if everything came together in God's timing. Ahh, that last part is always the hardest... in God's timing!

-- Jacqueline

Samantha Joan said...

It's easy to daydream about married life in an unrealistic way (as if it's not going to yield suffering along with its joys), but I think daydreaming about it at all is a good attitude, you know? It means you recognize the dignity and beauty of the sacrament of marriage, and hopefully, it will prod you on to the right direction of seeing everything else that comes along with it.