Lying Awake

There are moments of my life that are so filled with joy that the warm feeling that fills my body when I look back at them with fond memory doesn't even begin to adequately express the immeasurable wonder of ever having been so fortunate as to have lived them. Carlisle is a part of so many of those moments. He is their root, he is my lifeline in what would otherwise be meaningless eternity.

A week ago our first kiss was one such moment. After months of lightly treading around to what Edward described as being "woefully obvious", we finally let our guards down and admitted to each other what our hearts had known all along: we loved each other. Standing in the rain-soaked meadow outside out first home Carlisle gently brushed his lips against mine in what was the first of many kisses we shared. It was wonderfully awkward, and nervously tender. We held each other and laughed at our utter stupidity in not admitting out feelings before.

The next thing I knew, Carlisle impulsively scooped me up in his arms and began to carry me back to our house. I brushed his blonde hair out of his eyes and caressed his face with my fingers. Previous lines of concern and uncertainty seemed to melt away. I gazed into his eyes as he walked holding me. His eyes were a warm amber with flecks of brownish-gold. What color had they once been, I wondered? It didn't matter now. It was only a momentary musing. I was lost in what his eyes said over and over as they met mine: "I love you." .

When we arrived at the steps, he carefully put me down. I grabbed his hand and lead him to what had been "our spot" for weeks since he had built it for me; the porch swing. When he would come home from the hospital we would sit for hours swinging and talking. I knew this time it would be different. In the past we had at sat at opposite corners facing each other. I usually had my legs tucked under me facing Carlisle, who would lazily rock the swing pushing off the porch floorboards with his foot. The only physical contact we had with each other were fleeting touches as we would rise and go about our day.

Carlisle sat and drew me to him. Since I was cuddled in his lap, he wasn't able to rock the swing. I was far from disappointed. Lover's intuition took over. Soft words, caresses, learning what pleasures a simple touch could give now that there was a full understanding between us were just shy of perfection. There was a complete joy we wouldn't know until a week later when we were married.

There are all sorts of joys in life. Tonight I have just discovered one, and I know I will never tire of this. Perfection is lying in our bed, awake in Calisle's arms.