My heart flutters with anticipation. His hand reaches out to mine; ever so carefully I take it. Oh how this slight touch sends chills through my body. Now, passion that words could not describe fills me. I gaze into his eyes, his smiling delicate eyes. He peers at me back, and I wonder if its really me he is thinking of. But for now I am content with this hand. A hand seemingly carved from stone. I can feel the rough calouses and I can hear the stories they tell. They tell me volumes about this man. A man dedicated to work, to life, to this love.
A smile flutters accross his mouth and he leans in to kiss me. I taste his lips, soft and delicate against mine; they say I love you. A smile now touches the corner of his mouth again, and I can not help but smile back. For the moment we share is a whole new world for both of us. We say our vows.
I study him as the sun beats down and he toils with his hands. He labours not out of nesecity but out of love. Love for the family we are starting. He glances over his shoulder at me and smiles. A smile that fills me with joy and peace. How did I end up so lucky?
We sit in the den and take in our in child play. His rough caloused hand in mine. His lips still soft and delicate. His smile still warm and inviting. We grow with our child through the years, our feelings changing, but never losing their initial passion.
Now as I glance at him I can see how the years working in the sun have ravaged his face; to me he is still handsome. More so now than the day I met him. I once again take his hand; the same rough calouses. These hands built so much. They toiled and ached, they have been bruised and pained. Yet he did it all with no complaint. These hands of his, now cold in mine, built our house, and fed the fires of our love. Now they are cold with age, and death meets him at our door. And like an old friend come to call, I can only smile; a wifes knowing smile, and let his caloused hand go.
-S
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