Now, I know that seems a rather awkward thing to say. When you are in the daze of those first weeks of love, when you can't stop touching and kissing and thinking about that one other person that seems to make your life complete, you just know it will never end. You picture a lifetime of moments like these. Then the honeymoon is over and life sets in, and it becomes bills and jobs and obligations instead of wine and roses. Still, there are the lazy weekends spent in bed, the occasional night out, and somehow, you still find that hazy glow of love. And then that inexplicable time comes when you share a child, and those stolen moments become memories as you adjust from a loving twosome to a sleep deprived threesome, and then a crazy foursome. Life takes on a hectic pace, and though you try to hold on to those youthful people who were so in love, they become lost to these new, responsible people called parents.
For Evan and I, it happened slowly. Somewhere in between two kids, jobs, responsibilites, and life in general, we lost touch. I quit getting up early just to take showers with him, found other things to do instead of staying home to have lunch with him, and opted to sleep as soon as the kids were in bed while he stayed up to read. He worked longer hours, wanted more time in the gym, and stopped finding time to cuddle with me. We adopted the attitude that we could always find time for each later when the kids were older, never realizing that any relationship we had left at that point might not be one to find time for. Although we loved each other deeply, we stopped being in love. Somehow, we lost the butterflies, that flutter in your stomach every time the one you love is near.
Lucky for us we realized this before it became too late, and the past several months have been a steady course back to those giddy moments we used to relish, except they are better now because we share so much more. The other night we went out for the first time in a long time, met up with some old pre-baby friends, and had a drink at a favorite old haunt. We took the top off and listened to music like we used to. I looked over at Evan while he drove, his face older, his hair a little longer, so different from three years ago...and yet, still so much the same. The same relaxed stance when he drives, same crooked smile and careless laugh. I caught a glimpse of that sweet boy I fell in love with in this wonderful man I'm married to. And somewhere on the way home, deep in my tummy, I felt a tiny flutter. Butterflies.