Last night in a quiet moment before sleep, I lay snuggled against my husband--my leg over his, my hand on his chest, my head resting on his shoulder, his face touching mine. I felt his closeness and breathed him in. I find it strange how deeply his smell touches me. I can't relate it to anything recognizable. I just know that when my face is pressed against him I inhale safety, warmth, comfort, and love.
And then the strangest thing happened. In that moment of perfect contentment, I realized how much I would miss him, his smell, his comfort when he is gone. I have no reason to think that I will lose my husband any time soon. But I have often felt that I will live longer than he will. And last night I recognized how much I would miss him. It struck me so hard that it brought tears to my eyes.
(And now I pray that this was not a premonition. I hope that it was not preparing me for any near tragedy, but merely an opportunity for me to cherish these moments and not take him for granted.)
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