Standing in the shower last night, with my head on his chest and the water streaming over us, my garden induced delirium led to a serious appreciation for the little things.
It's not just those moments of mind blowing acquiescence, or the times of soul shattering control and surrender that makes our relationship what it is.
It's those tiny moments in time, with my head on his chest and the water pouring over us, those days standing in a huge patch of dirt and slowly working it into food for the year.
It's the way he kisses my forehead before I leave for work, the tone in his voice when he tells me I'm a good girl, the weakness in my knees when he states quietly and without doubt that I am his and his alone.
It's the look in his eyes when he says he enjoys my company (yea, whore at heart. One, "I enjoy your company" gets me out in that garden faster than ten, "I wish you would get your ass out here").
These are the moments that make everything else possible.
They are the foundation that holds up the framework for our exchange of power. They are the solid ground beneath our feet when the world shakes us to our cores.
These are the moments easily taken for granted, the ones I cannot live without, the ones that make this crazy life the beautiful experience it can be.
Because they are our moments.