On Saturday morning, I woke up and rolled over in bed to face Trevor. I found him still asleep, which typically happens, but this time I couldn’t help but stare at him. I cuddled up right next to him, and he made subtle movements to hold my hand, or put his arm around me, like he usually would. And while he slept, I just stared. For like five minutes. (It’s fine, he’s my husband.) I stared at his big eyelids, heavy from the fatigue that can come from programming all day. I stared at the resting muscles in his face, seemingly free from the stresses of life. I saw content in his face as well, and I wondered what he was dreaming about. (Perhaps me? :) For those five minutes of looking at my husband, I couldn’t help but feel so thankful to be waking up to a man like him every morning. I kept thinking how lucky I was to have someone to fall asleep with every night, and I felt all of the peace and comfort that comes with that. And then, he slowly woke up. He opened those big blue eyes, while wrapping his arms fully around me at the same time. He pulled me in tight, and we cuddled for a while longer.
It was in this little moment, full of quiet love, that I remembered why Saturdays were our favorite.