Sometimes you love me more. Sometimes I love you more. We're comfortable on our spots on the couch, lounging, on our computers, watching TV. There's love in the consistency, in the mundane. Excitement is important, it's necessary, but it's not what lasts. You and me and our sunken couches, that is forever.
I've had a hard day. The kids were monsters, I haven't showered, and I've stepped on 3 Legos and a pullup. You fell asleep last night in the middle of an argument and I still haven't forgiven you. You come home from a long day, bringing me kisses and sweet potato pie. "You're the best," I tell you. "Eh, I'm okay," you say. And we return to the spots on our couch and sink in for the night.
