In the car on the way home from DC, that song came on the radio. You turned it up ever so slightly, looking over at me with that tender smile of yours, your brown eyes crinkled at the edges, and said those words that always charm my heart: “This song reminds me of you.”
I listened. Listened to the innocent tune, the sweet, delicate voice of Sydney Sierota. And I smiled to myself, because you so rarely have opinions on music that when you do, and when that opinion is reminiscent of me, it feels like a kiss on the forehead every time I hear the melody.
We were at the grocery store several weeks later and I was fretting about something. Overly-anxious, overly-focused on something I probably didn’t have any control over. I can’t remember what, but that’s ok- it wasn’t important anyways.
And then we heard Sydney Sierota’s voice over the intercom music. And you stopped the cart, pulled me in close, and we slow danced in the cereal aisle at Wegmans. You cradled my right hand in your left like you always do, wrapped your other arm around my waist. And as the hot tears threatened to spill over, I found myself wondering, for the thousandth time, how on earth I got so lucky.
Ours is a slow-dance-in-the-cereal-aisle kind of love.
I wouldn’t have it any other way, darling.
Photograph by our talented friends James & Jess