In these four corners

a story of sanctuary

It’s early morning. My eyes are open and staring at his face. I wonder to myself how one person can be so beautiful. I marvel at my sheer, undeserved good luck. It makes me chuckle, but silently; he must not awake. I plant a kiss on his cheek and his arms instinctively hold me in a tight hug.

“I love you, babe”; he murmurs from the billowy arms of sleep, his voice like a storm of feathers, rumbling and relaxing. I want to remain in his arms.

But I gently roll out of them and stand up. It’s my hour of prayer, my personal time with the Lord. I go to my closet and I speak with my maker. It is with effort that I am able to focus on Him and not the other “him” He blessed me with. I pray but with an almost unconcealable side-eye, waiting because I know He will bring him up— because I want him to be brought up.

“Looks like my girl didn’t want to leave the bed this morning”; I hear His voice like a clear whisper in my heart— sharp but gentle, accompanied by a quiet laugh.

“Well, Papa, you did give him to me. I merely wanted to enjoy the feeling of being in his arms for a while longer”; I cheekily respond, giggling because finally, here’s what I really want to talk about.

“Ah, I remember those days you used to sing to me ‘Wrap me in Your arms, wrap me in Your arms, wrap me in Your arms’”; He teased.

“Papa!”; I cover my face in embarrassment, cringing at His apparent mirth. “I still want You to wrap me in Your arms. Ugh! Let’s talk about unsaved souls now please”.

I feel His love and pleasure. It makes me smile as I thank Him for gifting me to this man and me to him.

“Thank You, Papa”, I whisper.

It’s a little over an hour. I am eager to return to bed, even though real life awaits me outside of it. But what is a woman in love if not the most efficient multitasker? I decide to brush my teeth and take the laptop to bed.

And then, my love awakens. His gentle smile makes me feel warmer, like the golden rays of the sun have found a way in. I am like a lotus, my petals unfurling to the rise of the sun. Are the colors surrounding me glowing brighter or is it my eyes that have become more aware? Either way, he is awake and life feels more alive.

“Good morning, my wife”; he says as he pulls me over to him. My newly bestowed appellation stuns me. I still cannot believe that it’s been a week since our wedding. One week. Seven days of sharing a bed, the air we breathe, our souls as one before God and man. Seven days of falling asleep in his arms and waking to the quiet sound of his midnight prayers. One week of being his wife.

“Good morning, my husband”; I answer with a calm smile that belies my inner excitement. He plants a quick kiss on my lips before heading out of bed. Every support holding up my senses still cracks asunder at the merging of our lips. It will forever feel glorious.

Without him, the bed feels like an arid desert that can swallow me. “Babe! BABE!”; I shout as loud as I can so he understands the urgency of the situation.

“What is it?”; his full head of hair precedes his form as I hear him ask.

“Come back to bed, please”.

His eyes dance with humor as he rolls them and tells me he is coming.

I am impatient but I wait.

He returns to the bed with microwaved pizza and a cup of hot tea for me— I never take coffee and he doesn’t care for any tea-like concoctions either. I am again taken by surprise at his thoughtfulness. 431 days of loving this man, seven of being his wife and I still haven’t gotten used to his kindness.

“What are you watching?”, he asks as he lays his head in my lap so I can play with his hair the way I like, and rub his neck the way he likes.

“It’s a video tutorial on how to use a new tool we’re being onboarded to at work. I need to be good at it by the time we resume”.

He watches with me for a while, making nonsense jokes and commentary as we eat. It is not long before the laptop is pushed aside and I focus on my favorite thing to do— talking to him and participating in what I call “ethical gossip”. You know the type where you update your partner about what’s happening with your friends without any malicious intent? Yep, that type of gossip.

He laughs at intervals and my heart performs its acrobatics again. It’s contracting and bursting at the seams at the same time. I am full of pride that I am so funny but I am enthralled by how his eyes disappear when he laughs and he looks as cute as a cherub.

I have places to be. But this is where I want to be. In bed. With him. Laughing, gossiping, arguing, loving. It’s our paradise and warzone. I don’t want to leave this bed. We comfort and share, we fight and forgive, we cry and laugh— our souls merge in here. The world might go to blazes outside those doors, but these four corners ground us.

I make to stand up to get dressed and he holds me tightly to himself.

“Don’t get out of bed. Just stay here with me”.

My eyes dance with humor as I roll them at him. I am not embarrassed to stay.

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I watched an Instagram video yesterday that inspired this story. Been meaning to remind my hands of how they used to write fiction, and this looked like a way to ease into it. Please let me know your thoughts after reading. Leave a comment or write an email response. <3