Another day coming to an end, 50 miles on the road, 3 1/2 hours in the car and never left the valley. Hit 700 red lights and got behind every old person on the road, plus it's been 110 for the last 10 days in a row.

Pulling up into the driveway though, it all slips away because I know you're inside. You don't know I'm in the driveway, letting the dregs of the day drain away, I don't have a regular time to come home. There may or may not be something cooking, it might be my turn or we may be eating out. But you'll be inside, reading, working on something that pleases you, maybe even waiting for me, it makes no difference because whatever you're doing will be put aside for at least a few moments when my key hits the door and you come to welcome me home.

The kiss may be long and lingering or it may be a quick peck, but it's there. It's always there. The house is cool, the company is right, it's good to be home.


It's winter; what passes for winter in So. Cal. anyway. My job doesn't have as much work in winter as yours does so I'm the one at home waiting on you, listening for that magic noise, that metallic crunch that means your key is in the lock and you're finally home.

You're lucky in the traffic dept. though, 8 miles each way to work, no freeway and a job you love. Like me, one of the best parts of your day is that evening greeting, long or short, duration of no matter, being reliable and consistent is what's really important, which is something we've talked about. We talk a lot.

If we're lucky it's raining, we both like the rain, and I've got a fire going and maybe a few candles burning and something we heard on KCRW and liked on the stereo. Since you don't always want to eat a meal when you get home there may or may not be some sliced fruit or crackers on the counter for you to munch while you decide if you're really hungry. I'm OK with whatever works out. We've done this many many times before.


The moon is out, just a sliver and the clouds are being moving quickly past, like a time-compressed film, so beautiful it doesn't seem like it could truly be real. Holding hands we marvel a bit, as we often do, sometimes at the moon, sometimes at a particularly beautiful sunset or, if we've been up all night again, an awesome sunrise. Nothing needs to be said.

We have plans for the weekend, maybe antiquing, maybe a drive up to the mountains, or the beach, maybe just not doing anything at all but we do plan on doing whatever we do with eachother. There may be friends involved, there often are, for at least part of our two day hiatus from the "real world," or there may not.

We both know we'll be waking up next to the other, perhaps spooning or maybe limbs entangled face to face and arms around eachother. There is comfort there, and longing and a tinge of excitement too. We know we have done well, we know there are those with far less. We are the lucky ones.