Celebrating: That I’m hot for my wife after 18 years (or 33 years) (you decide)
Today we’re celebrating that I’m crazy besotted in love with my wife after 18 years — or 33 years — depending on how you are counting.
For those of you who don’t wish to countenance something intimate, something hinging on the sexual . . . look away!
~ Go to this post: Your light speaks
~ Or this post, there’s only a wee sensual reference in it: Space and time, love and joy
First, why the different time frames, 18 years/33 years? We met in college, dated for a year and a half, then went our separate ways for almost 15 years.
Second . . . where were we? Oh! Let’s get back to what we’re celebrating — that aging love can be enduring and deepening and sexy hot and spiritual and full-on friendship and a business partnership and a creative entanglement.
I’m in love like a (wise) teenager. I know how good I’ve got it. I see couples all around us who’ve lost their vigor for one another. We could have. We’ve had a traumatic moment or two (three, really), yet we came back deeper. Funner and funnier. Smilier. (Smile-ier.) Looser, though more coherently together. Twined in our common goals, loose in the freedoms we give one another to pursue our passions.
For those who wonder if it can be done, it can. It takes a light touch. Touch each other with Light . . . and with light-heartedness, that’s all you need to know.
You’ll figure that out. You truly will if it’s your desire.
For you —
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