A white dish cloth rests on his shoulder while he washes the plates, the big pans from dinner last night.
I've just emerged from slumber, and it's 9:15 a.m. I feel rested, as that's two more whole hours of sleep than what I normally secure.
I kiss my dish-scrubbing husband and whisper something about how there's nothing quite as sexy as a man washing pots and pans.
He thinks I'm mostly kidding.
But it's the truth.
I feel so loved, my heart feels so full when he's moving warm water over each fork, spoon, knife, quickly rinsing and putting them to rest in the dish drain, gazing on the sights I see many, many times a day.
And it's not just because the dishes are clean, equaling one less thing on my to-do list.
It's great than that because he's quietly, humbly slipped his feet into my shoes for a few moments; he's graciously entered into the space that's normally mine.
And he's stood for just awhile in my spot -- come along side me in a way that says he sees fragments of life from my vantage point.
Though it's brief, fleeting, it serves as a sight to my sometimes-blinded eyes that I don't serve, walk alone.
That's time! Every Friday, Lisa-Jo at The Gypsy Mama, encourages her readers to write for five minutes straight while abandoning worries about grammar or edits or word choice. Just simply write what comes to mind after the prompt. Then visit others who have linked before you. Simple and wonderful! Today's prompt was "I feel most loved when..."