The Original “Hours and Minutes” Piece
Hours and Minutes came to be after I wrote a piece about me and my husband’s everyday joys for our wedding ceremony. I’m excited to share that piece with you to help you get to know me as a writer and gain a better understanding of what Hours and Minutes is all about. Enjoy!
Coffee in bed. An open window, a soft breeze. The morning sun. Always putting the top sheet on because he knows she hates it. Insisting on squeezing out every last bit of toothpaste, even when she says, “there’s another one under the sink, you know.”
A long car ride. A story she’s told dozens of times, but he nods along, completely rapt. Listening to the same song over and over, just because they like it—his funny, painfully falsetto singing voice; her never knowing any of the words, but never having any doubt that she’ll get it right this time.
An autumn walk—looking up and seeing an explosion of color, catching it at its peak just before all the leaves fall. A neighborhood full of Christmas lights and a slow, meandering drive home. Swinging in the hammock, watching the clouds float along. The first ice cream cone of the summer.
Geeking out about wearing the most comfortable hotel robes ever; buying them at check out. Accidentally filling up on chips and salsa while cooking the main course—again. A beautiful view after a long hike that’s even better than expected, their arms around each other, sun on their face. Calling just to say hello.
Takeout on the floor of their first home, the moving truck outside. Flowers blooming in the garden. Vegetables that finally grew this year. Another photo album filled and placed on the mantle, another painting added to the gallery wall.
A crumpled tear-stained napkin, a hand on a knee. That joke from earlier, a laugh that finally breaks through. A deep breath. A glassy-eyed smile. Finally feeling ready to head back out into the crowd.
Knowing all of their different kinds of laughs: full body, a little bit awkward, utter shock, and so unbelievably happy.
The menu at their favorite restaurant that they know inside and out, and the never ending debate about what to order. Smiles behind wine glasses, candles flickering, plates cleared. “Well, let’s at least look at the dessert menu.”A short walk after dinner turned into a long one.
The words “I love you” following every goodbye, so engrained it doesn’t even register, except when it does, and she thinks, “I really love you too.” And he thinks, “I really, really do.” The joy in that familiarity, in the extraordinary.
From Shannon, to Erik: my amazing husband. Here’s to more everyday joy.