ali maria

11.14.23 - me, free diving with wild whale sharks in the open ocean - oslob, cebu, philippines

I'm 31 and we're in our little white bungalow in the Museum District and I can't believe this is my life with you. It's 9am, but it might as well be 6 with how dark it is due to the storm. We sat in the rocking chairs on the front porch with our coffee and watched it roll in. When we walk back inside, the pecan roast smell and the new fall candle we have burning meld together to welcome us back in. Peter Sivo big band music is playing through our turntable speakers and the lamp light in the kitchen is contrasting the darkness even more so. We've poured so much into our home and it shows - this is ours. Every rug and pillow and piece of art on the wall is us. Visible traces of the intentionality in how we work together. We sweep eachother up and begin to dance across the dining room and across the kitchen, my face nuzzled into your neck. Wimberley wants to cut in, and I wonder what it's like to grow up with parents who are so in love with each other - does she understand? Maybe dogs understand love best. There's pizza leftover from watching the game last night and we have laundry to do. I leave for Chicago soon and I have a blog to write this morning, but I just want to write about this and us and you and me. I want to remember even the tiniest of moments, because it's all so good and so specific and I know that I know that I know that this is important and it's just about the only thing that's important. I wish younger me knew what was in store. What love could be. Safe and warm and calm and golden. But now I do. And the music continues to play... Now I know, my waiting was not in vain, though years have gone, forever this is ours, so hold me and smile dear, press your lips to mine, forget the past, for this is is ours