The phone rings and i snatch it from it's cradle.
"i miss you." He says in this rare moment of quiet we've found.
He sounds tired and far away.
"It only took you six days to miss me." i say, teasing him lightly.
"Well, i missed you yesterday too, so technically it was only five." & i can hear the smile on his face across those miles between us...
Day seven will pass too & sometime after that, he'll walk in the door - with a new beard and plenty of dirty laundry. But on day six, i breathe in the sound of his voice like oxygen.
The sounds of our children - our sons and daughters - fade in the background, and this phone call - this little thing - gives me life.
He's the king of the little things, this man:
the teasing laughter in his voice,
the cock of an eyebrow,
the smell of clean,
the hand holding,
the together eating ice cream,
the sweeping of the floors -
these little things.
& isn't it the little things - that make up the big things in the end? Little things piling one on top of the other 'till they've been folded and kneaded into a great mountain of the great and significant?
He's the king... of the little things - serving his tiny kingdom by drying dishes, absently pushing back a stray lock of hair or never forgetting to kiss goodbye. King, bringing cranberry juice or tickling the nape of my neck. King, staring... for just a little longer - every once in a blue moon.
Long live the king...