these are the nights

Dear Annie,

It was just me and you last Thursday night. Me, you, some wine, and an ugly futon that has found its perfect home on our porch where we can sit and laugh or cry and watch the stars shine right back at us. This porch is the best asset of our home and you’ve made it a beautiful space with those hanging vases and cute little light bulbs strung along the rooftop.

These are the moments I want to remember. The thoughts that are shared here, the lessons learned that are reiterated back to each other. I spill out words and thoughts about missional living and community and my job and how the different pieces of it are fitting together, or how I dream of them fitting together better. You ask a question, and it makes me think deeper. I hope I can do the same for you.

We eat pieces of dark chocolate and my glass of wine is finished before your’s. This is good, Annie. I want to celebrate the good.

In the midst of our own confusion and angst, heartbreak and longing, which follows its own cycles that we walk through with one another, I sit and recognize the good that I see. I see beauty in friendship, these special moments on a week-night, that 10 year old’s birthday party we went to last weekend, the dubsmash memories we text to each other, the bike rides to the park, our persistent efforts to conquer our apartment ant problem.

I don’t want this season of life to pass us by too quickly. I don’t want to forget the sacredness of this place, this home that we’re creating. I don’t want to forget the music that sometimes blasts too loudly, the funky dance moves we attempt to perfect, the yoga in the middle of the living room floor, the french press that’s always either used or sitting on the drying rack.

Tonight is another one of those nights where I’m sitting under the lights drinking a glass of wine and remembering that I’m so thankful for this.

It’s a privilege to do life with you.

Love, Alyssa

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