We were Two once, what seems like so long ago. Watching you over the table during dinner tonight, talking to our Three, I remember being Two. Two was simple. Two was exciting, in a way that Three is not. Three is better, but Two was…I miss Two sometimes.
I forget sometimes that we became Three by being Two, enjoying our Twoness. Do all parents stop being a couple for a time? When does the balance come back? It’s comfortable, all the time, too much of the time. When you know what the other is thinking, you stop asking. It seems like our best is spent when she drifts off to sleep, so there is nothing to give to each other. Fumes. How long can we cruise on fumes?
I still get flutters, when I look at you, catch you looking at me. I picked right. You picked right. But sometimes I need to remember that. And it’s hard. She is all, everything, us. What are we, anymore, without her? Strangers, at times. The most familiar, comfortable, intimate strangers. I miss you, in the same house. In the same room. In the same bed. I miss you. I miss Two.
But a touch. A look. A smile exchanged over sweet baby bed head. We remember, you and I. We could never forget, really. We were Two, once. And still are. And will always be. Three is better, Three is her, but Two is us. You and me. Three is perfect, but we need the Two. Especially if we ever want to be Four.
linking up with Heather of the EO and Just Write