perfect.

A while back, I wrote this:

he tells me i need to enjoy life more and in the small increments of time we get to share, it often feels as though he is silently hoping a little bit of his inner peace could bleed into me.  he wonders how we'd be in the daytime, when the opportunity to sleep and rest aren't paramount priorities, and when the cries of all the obligations and duties i take on tug and pull at me in all sorts of directions.  i laugh, and remind him to show, not tell, for telling me to be a certain way and encouraging me to change are two surefire methods to keep me completely stagnant. 

it's a good thing he knows how to listen.

going with the flow is a difficult task for me because i am a person who likes to control the flow.  but he asked, and complying was the least i could do given all of his efforts.  and, now, i can't even really begin to describe how grateful i am that he pushed, and that i dropped my defenses for a brief moment.  because had i not, i wouldn't have enjoyed such a perfect evening.

perfect.  perfect's not a word that gets tossed around easily.  but, perfect is the only word that even comes close to describing the perfect weather, with the perfect sounds of the booming ocean waves, the perfect little palm trees in the distance that resembled oversized mushrooms planted in the the perfect sand, and the perfect night sky decorated with undulating streaks of perfect pale pink.  and, when Mandalay came on the stereo, i knew that he had also planned the perfect playlist.  we took perfect bundled-up mini cat naps, and, it was even more perfect that we finished the night with his less-than-perfect response to being flashed in the face by an officer's bright flash light.  :) 

oh, the memories.  oh, this memory.  i love knowing that perfection is perfectly possible.

Today, I was restless and read through some old emails of ours and stumbled across this line from the mister:  "i just recalled, you did snore on perfect night. how imperfectly inappropriate for such a perfect night with perfect palm trees planted in the perfect sand... okay i'll stop."

He makes me laugh.  He still takes me to beach late at night and together we marvel at the booming sound of the waves and talk about all of the intangible, befuddling, aspects of this existence.  Every day he teaches me how to be a better person, one who loves life a little bit more, one who becomes increasingly grateful for everything she has, and one who is not saddened by everything she has not yet experienced.  And during the moments where I notice our imperfections, I remind myself that imperfections are the norm, but achieving perfection -- now that's something that's rare and precious.  Just like us.