The Life We'd Live

Today, I witnessed something beautiful. Today, I witnessed an evident love as bright as the sun, beaming through the eyes of two strangers, and through the short glimpse of their lives I had the privilege of witnessing.

I watched them watch the sun set into the sea. I watched as he watched her, as though nothing more worthy of his devoted gaze existed in the entire universe. He smiled, and I can only imagine that in that moment, a vision of a life flashed before his eyes. The life they would live, together.

Then he stood up from the sand and he took her by the hand, lifting her to her feet. He said, “Dance with me,” and she laughed. She shook her head, for she didn’t know how. “That’s okay,” he said, “neither do I. Let’s dance anyway.” And so they did, until the sunlight was no more, but the light of the love between them had never shined brighter.

Now tonight, I find myself in the cold arms of grief, because it should be your arms that I am wrapped in between. But this cruel world has never been so gracious to us.

So now I am looking at the moon and I’ve realized, that is who we are. I am she, and you are the sun. You can see the two drawn and written together, side by side in everything; in art and in poetry. But do we ever stop to consider that the sun and the moon never have and never will get the chance to touch? From where we stand, we see they are set in place on two opposite sides of our atmosphere, forever hopelessly chasing after one another as they share the same orbit. At least he can see the light reflecting off her surface, and she can feel his warmth upon her face. But neither one will ever catch up with the other. One sky they share, but two different worlds they live in; two separate lives they live. One of the day, and one of the night. Just as you are confined to a world of dreams, and I would give anything to stay asleep.

I like to imagine it though. The life we’d live. Maybe the two of us, dancing on the beach as the sun sets into the sea. Oh, but there would be so much more.

A home we would make together. One with a fireplace we would sit in front of together on cold or quiet mornings. And a little garden in the back, or a large one if the Lord were to bless us with it. Both of our hands would get dirty, and we would grow food together, and we would grow together.

I imagine sitting beneath an oak tree with you, the way we used to in our dreams. You’d braid tenella flowers into my hair, and I would sing to you your favorite songs, despite my weakened voice. But in this life we’d live, maybe I’d have the voice of a starling set free.

In the mornings, I would wake up early to prepare coffee for you, and a breakfast with the food we grew ourselves. And after you’d have eaten, you would kiss me and I would say a prayer as you’d leave for work. I would stay home, happily tending to it, waiting patiently for your return so that I may cook you supper, and care for all of your needs.

Someday, when we’re ready, we’d try for children. And if the Lord willed and blessed it, I would bear your child. I would bear as many of your children as He’d allow. We would raise them together, but I would tend to them and school them while you’re away. They would get to learn hands-on in the garden, and we’d read books beneath our oak tree. When you’re home, we would tell them our stories, and we would teach them about hope and faith; the promise of a sun above every storm. We would read to them the Word of God in the morning, and again in the evening. We would pray, and they would see it, hear it, and learn to pray too. And through our love, they would learn what it means to love and be loved. And through that, I’d pray they would learn and know God’s unconditional love.

Our sons would learn and grow up to be strong, faithful, godly men like you. Our daughters would learn and grow to be nurturing, submissive, godly women, the way I hope I am and strive to be.

And someday, our children would grow up and leave the home we’d have made. We would hope we did well, raising them as arrows, and we would pray and trust that the Lord would guide them in their individual walks moving forward. Away from us, maybe. Closer to Him, always.

As the years would go by, I would grow old with you. We’d sit beneath the oak tree, and you would braid tenella flowers into my frail, white hair, with your wrinkled hands. I would sing to you, all of your favorite songs, until I could sing no longer.

And maybe we would visit the sea, one last time, and you would take my trembling hands and carefully lift me up off the sand. You would say, “Dance with me,” and I would laugh. I would shake my head, for we’d be too old and frail. “That’s okay,” you’d say, “let’s dance anyway.” And so we would. We would dance until the sunlight was no more. But the light of the love between us had never shined brighter, than in our last moments together, in the life we’d live.

That night, I would find myself in the cold arms of grief, when it used to be your arms that I’d be wrapped in between. But the world had been so gracious, so generous to us; a world where the sun could touch the moon. What a life we would have lived, in the life we’d live; in the life I would have lived with you.

The Life We'd Live. Copyright © 2024 Sienna Skye Journey. All Rights Reserved.