I want nothing more than to go to bed.

It’s late.  I woke up nearly 24 hours ago in South Beach, Miami boarded a plane to Chicago, endured a 3 hr layover with NO FREE WIRELESS in O’Hare, flew to Dayton, found our car in the economy lot, drove to Russia, picked up my baby, drove home, put Isaiah to bed and made myself a late night snack while I checked in with my email and social media outlets from which I had been mostly away from for four days.

I want nothing more than to go to bed.

But I can’t.  I am worried that if I don’t write this now, I won’t feel it in the morning.  I’m scared that this clarity (in the form of advice I’m about to impart) will dissipate between now and dreamland and when I wake up, I’ll be all selfish with my time and make breakfast and say, “The world can do without my words.”

But right now, I know that I should pass on a little piece of goodness that I know with my whole tired body, mind, and soul: prioritize love.

Since Nick and I went on this little weekend getaway, small mirrors keep popping up in our faces, reflecting back at us what we look like as a married couple.  We had a gift: Time together, time away with no agenda that to simply BE with one another.  Talk, explore, try, eat, sit, laugh, muse, remember, and hold hands on a overcast day and sip drinks from a 7-11 corner store.  I couldn’t remember that last time that Nothingness could feel so precise and purposeful.

On our plane ride, we tried to think of the last time that he and I traveled together, alone, with no other purpose than to just be together.  Not for a wedding, family reunion, funeral, or friends’ gathering.  It had been years.  Many years.

I suppose that neither of us noticed how long it had been since it had just been us too because our life, our kid is so great.  Isaiah’s this amazing ball of wonder who makes us laugh and enjoy life.  But, like many parents know, your joy is filtered through the lens of your child.  A child IS the joy, can be the joy.  So much so that one parent can forget that joy can come from other areas of life, like a life partner, or spouse, or lover.  Joy is meant to be a multi-located entity.  A healthy parent, a healthy marriage must have a map of where joy can be found and it should have many X’s to mark that spot.  Isaiah is, by far, the largest, but on Nick’s map, I am a large X and on my map, Nick is just as large.

I had time to do and remember what I love when I’m with Nick: watch him.  Watching his face as he reads, listening to him choose his words carefully when retelling a story of what happened to him when he walked to the store while I lay on the beach, watching him read a menu and look around, a sign that he’s unsure of what he wants.  We had time to read and share passages aloud that resonated with us. We would put our heads close to talk about the four men a few feet from us who starting arguing politics, and we discussed who we agreed with and why.  We had our arms around each other, poking each other in the arms during a joke, smoothing our hands over the other’s arm, him putting his hand on the small of my back to lead me into a room, me resting my hand on the back of his neck when we hugged. — all these little moments felt like small bridges, building new ways to connect and be in love.

None of this was forecasted.  I just thought we would kick it and enjoy much needed down time.  I did not anticipate the energy erupted from just being together without our son crawling on us, crying for more crackers, asking us to dance with him, or making us break our gaze so to look at him.  I didn’t anticipate that because I didn’t realize something was missing.

Love is never a one time thing.  It’s not like you fall in love and then Poof! you maintain that depth, intimacy, and understanding everyday all day.  It fluctuates with life’s demands, children, and career.  But I think that many of us figure that in the absence of fighting, in the quiet busyness of making life work, marriage can be in maintenance mode and still be functional.  It CAN be, but unlike other relationships, your primary relationship deserves more than just maintenance mode.  We’re all changing, breathing creatures who adapt with time and experience.   We all need time to show we are becoming to the one we most cherish.  That takes time, space, and intentionality.

Being married should never be maintenance, but constant chiseling.  However, from time to time, the tools need to be put down to admire the work of art in one another.