A Thousand Tiny Infinities

“I just want to stay right here,” he breathes, his stubble brushing against the soft skin between my collarbone and neck. We’re curled in blankets, the Saturday morning sunrise peeking through the window. I love mornings like this, when the rest of the world is not yet awake. Mornings when the sun greets you with her warmth, and the only sounds are the ocean waves, the trucks sweeping the street, the birds fluttering their wings. No place to go or be.

“Me too,” I whisper, kissing his forehead.

He is much taller than me, but laying down we are nose to nose. He scoots lower, pressing his lips against my shoulder, then rests his head against my chest. Like a child, I hold him there, running my fingers along the unruly part of his hair. He is a father to a young boy; this role reversal between us is strange, yet comforting. I can’t help but think of his son, the way his nine-year-old limbs are always wild and flailing between us. I wonder how it feels to be that child, head pressed to someone’s chest. I wonder how it feels to be the one being taken care of for the first time in so long.

My boyfriend turns to look at me, the light reflecting softly off his eyes making them brighten to a blue-green. He doesn’t say anything, just keeps my gaze and I feel the warmth that only love can bring bubbling up in my chest.

Moments like this I struggle to put into words—the simplicity of a look shared between two people, the unconscious laughter that sparks without reason, the way arms and hands and fingertips fit, the comfort of not saying anything, yet feeling like so much has been spoken in your shared silence.

Moments like this I can’t help but wish I could freeze time, stop with his hand gently held against my cheek, with his laughter filling the room, with the hint of mischievousness in his eye, identical to his son’s.

I can’t help but long to stay in this moment, in thousands of others were I felt the pull of happiness in my chest, so beautiful it hurts. The fleeting moments you try to stretch as long as you possibly can—where you finally understand what it means to tie your heart to someone else’s, to see your life played out before your eyes, to hold someone’s head against your chest and feel at home.

I can’t help but wonder if this is what heaven feels like, a thousand tiny infinities with him in my arms.

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