< anonymous >

When Lisa sleeps, peace becomes her.  And yet, she sleeps briefly. Her muscles tense up before dawn, like they can intuit the sunrise.

When she awakens,  life will consume her like a greedy fire. She’ll dress in a pre-planned outfit, eat a healthy breakfast, and then snatch her keys and tiptoe out, careful to leave me at rest.

If I’m lucky she’ll leave a note—better yet, muffins. But muffins aren’t really my thing. It’s just that eggs and bacon won’t stay hot and she’s occupied by the details.

I could reheat. I do have that ability.

Anyway, right now Lisa’s asleep, away from the concerns of last night. Just before bed, she asked, “Is our love proportional?”

I paused. “That’s a really hard question to answer. A proportion could be 3/4 or 1:8. Some people give everything in a relationship; some people hold back. Everyone moves at their own pace.”

She looked at the floor. She wanted me to say yes, our love is equal. But no, our love is not 50/50.

I faltered. “People experience and express love in so many different ways. I just don’t know.”

As I look at Lisa now, deep in sleep, I know she’s worth fighting for. Her love overwhelms me, but I can do better. I can love her like she loves me.

Today, I’m going to make her muffins.