These are magical moments. So sweetly sentimental, that there are times when, even in the midst of them, I find happy tears in the corners of my eyes. All the more so when I look back and remember.
We spent a good part of the weekend in the Emerald City Garden.
Just the name invokes a magical place.
And it is a magical place. Indeed. A beautiful community garden right in the heart of the city. If you look closely, you can see the Hancock Tower off in the distance. And if you choose to not look at all, you're in a wonderland of flowers.
We spread out an old, faded, well-loved bedsheet that was my parents' once upon a time in the seventies. It is our go-to blanket for the parks and beaches we spend so much time enjoying. The blanket, bottles of water, and books, along with whatever else we want for the day are always carrying in a beautifully colorful bag Joe's Mom gifted me from her trip to Guatemala. There's comfort to be found in the ritual of having those things play their designated roles.
Our intent had been to read and soak up some sunlight.
The reality was we both cat-napped.
We took turns using each other as a pillow and slept in the golden sun.
It felt so warm and comforting after the grey winter. And the wind was enough to keep it from being uncomfortably hot.
But even better was my nap in the crook of Joe's arm. There's just the right spot for my to rest my ear and my chin and sleep with the steady lull of Joe breathing in and out. In and out. In. And out. It's my paradise. Sleeping on Joe just so in the warm sun in the quiet oasis of the Emerald City Garden.
And even sweeter still when I later found Joe had snapped a picture of my perfect little nap.
These are the magical moments.