on that unusually cool, sacred afternoon in late July,
to become so intertwined in each other,
to become one, as the pastor said.
Of course, we have not always lived up to that promise,
but this morning, just like every morning,
you woke me up
with a mug of my dark roast and half and half,
a partial smile,
and I inched out of bed, armed with my coffee,
just about ready to begin again.