And 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3

When I see Ferdinand asleep against his pillow, his eyes closed to everything but his dreams, my knees go weak and I am filled with the ocean of how much I love him. I curl up beside him and could stroke the softest skin of his cheek, and feel his slow and steady breath against my own forever.
Sometimes it is the most tender collision that reminds of the width and depth within you.
Last night I crushed fennel seeds and stirred them into zucchini that I had cut into tiny cubes and sauteed in butter with a grind of salt and pepper.
It took my by surprise.
My heart beat with the beauty of it.

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