Love and Simplicity: Why the World Could Have Ended

Posted on May 25, 2011


My husband and I woke up slowly, but earlier than usual on Saturday. When we were awake enough to talk, we laid in bed swapping dream stories and laughing. Our new crimson sheets felt wonderful against my skin as I glanced up at the ceiling trying to piece together what I still remembered from my adventures.

We got up and opened the windows to reveal a warm morning bursting with light. My husband ate his usual breakfast: a glass of orange juice and a blueberry muffin made by the cafe my sister works at. I threw together a taco omelette stuffed with an assortment of diced vegetables I had laying in the fridge. While I cooked my breakfast there was a comedy special we had recorded playing in the living room. We relaxed together for the rest of the morning until we heard from one of our good friends, and the three of us went to lunch and sat outside on the patio of the restaurant and talked.

The night before, my husband and I were trying to decide what to eat and settled on a place right around the corner of our house. We were both relaxed, the downtown area was filled with more people than usual because of the nice weather. A clothing shop on the corner by the restaurant was spilling cream colored light into the street with a sign offering free wine inside. The sun had almost set, and the blue tint of evening settled in all the corners and shadows. We were seated in record time, almost accidentally, and the food was superb as usual. It was just the two of us in our little town. Smoky burgers, a busy restaurant bristling with life, a kind waitress with a gorgeous flower tattoo and large brown eyes, and my love across the table. I felt the universe open up for a moment and I knew I was exactly where I was meant to be.

Two nights this week have been ripe with stressful dreams. Both times, I’ve woken up to find my husband asleep next to me, warm, and that I have plenty of time to still get some rest.

If the world had ended on Saturday, I don’t know that I would have been disappointed. Not out of a loathing, quite the contrary. Aside from perhaps seeing my family one more time, there wouldn’t have been a better time. I was so full of contentment and bliss that I would have been perfectly satisfied if it had been my last moments. Time was passing slowly like most summer weekends, and such love and simplicity rarely meet in such a present, obvious form.

All weekend, all I could do was look over at my love and think “It just doesn’t get much better than this.”

Sheer bliss.

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