Bavinck at Bedtime
I lie half-sleep on the couch while my husband reads Herman Bavinck’s Reformed Dogmatics. A candle flickers in the background. Our feet touch under a shared blanket. The apartment is silent, save for the sound of water rushing through pipes in the walls and the muffled conversations of neighbors.
I painted my nails today. The first time since, well, since my wedding manicure, but I can’t remember a time before that. Probably during summer. Probably staving off intense boredom on a Saturday when I actually had work off. Today I am positive about our little life here. The mono did its work to stifle any optimism that tried to surface in the past month. There’s a lot of good a shower and two coats of nail polish can do for a girl’s state of mind. Put that in your book of proverbs.
I’m really writing this because I looked up from my sleepy-eyed daze and saw my husband, his brow furrowed with concentration, and was awestruck at the sight of him. We haven’t been married three months yet, so I still get to be without explanation. I wanted to record this moment. This feeling. Of loving someone so deeply it’s frightening. Truly. It keeps me up at night. And I cry and he holds me. It’s the scariest, best thing I’ve ever had a privilege to be a part of. I don’t want to forget.