this is the life.

it's sleeping together until noon because he worked until 5:30 in the morning and you don't sleep well when he's gone, yet sleep soundly when he's there.

it's getting up to a day where the hours are long and rich and your to-do list consists of eating, resting and spending time together.

it's looking up places to stay for your upcoming Tahoe vacation and then knowing that you both feel the same stirring anticipation without uttering a word.

it's feeling lazy and a bit guilty of all the smores eaten, so you take your dog on a run, me wheezing, him running slower than he would without me, but still saying, "babe. i'm proud of you."

it's stopping by the grocery to get the necessary ingredients for him to make his famous guacamole.

it's spending the evening at a cook-out with all three of your other Tennessee fans living in Cincinnati, playing corn-hole (and winning), eating delicious food and settling in to enjoy the first Tennessee football game of the year.

it's sitting there with your mouth hung to the floor because your Vols just shanked a field goal to tie the game back up in overtime.

it's sitting in a room with others who understand your pain.

it's him driving home in silence, thinking of the long season ahead, all the while his wife asking questions that can't possibly be answered.

it's continuing to sulk in the pity by watching one more TV show before retiring to bed.

it's listening to Regina Spektor.

it's him asking if you'd please go to bed with him tonight.

it's being in a room that's both yours and his biggest comfort.

it's laying in a bed together laughing.

it's laughing the type that makes your stomach tighten, your eyes close and the teeth running down the side of your mouth show.

it's laughing at only jokes the two of you would understand.

it's trading the overhead light for your book light so that you can read a book you've been missing all day while your favorite-everything drifts off to sleep next to you.

it's setting your book down to ponder the life you're living. a life that's slow and rich and meaningful. a life where there's room to notice and appreciate the small things. a life where compromises you don't want to make, you don't have to. a life where even if you're longing for something a bit different, a bit more, a bit less, you're still able to appreciate just how perfectly fitting it is for you.

it's feeling the urge to write this all down so that it will not be forgotten.

yes, this is the life I am grateful for.