I Will Kiss You Each Night

I Will Kiss You Each Night

I Will Kiss You Each Night


A solid clear blue sky extended from skyline to skyline, white wool cotton mists floated sluggishly without rush over the overhead vista, hanging short lived patches of cool shade upon the festival and its participants who met up to send off the recently hitched couple into their lives together. 

As they stood up close and personal underneath the shade, clasping hands, the priest raised her head from the couple and looked toward the group;

"The couple has written their own vows which they'd like to share."
He could scarcely hear what she said; the sound of his heart beating too uproariously in his ears. At the point when she completed, he, with shaking hands, pulled a thrice-collapsed piece of paper from inside his charcoal-dark tuxedo pocket. Looking profound into the earthy colored eyes of his darling, frantically endeavoring to keep his voice from breaking, he croaked out his vow.

"Today, in front of friends, family, and God, I am marrying my soul mate. I know not what lies in our tomorrows. Yet, no matter that, I promise to you that I will love you deeply and without reservation in every manner in which I know. I shall love you for the remainder of my days and beyond. In all that time, I commit to honor you for the person you are and not try to change you, as there is no reason to do so. you are already of my spirit, interwoven through my essence, closer to me than my breath. I ask nothing of you in return except to be with me. And I promise as each day fades into yesterday, before I sleep, that I will gently kiss you good night and thank the Universe for your presence. When we agree, I shall kiss you with gladness. Should we differ, I shall do the same. In sickness, my kiss will heal. In good times, it shall celebrate. I will - through joy and sorrow, illness and health, poverty and riches - forever remain by your side, ending and beginning each day with you and with a kiss."

A light emission reflected from the gold ring as he put it on her finger. 

Faintly, he heard praise and cheering, taking note of the cleanser rises as they coasted to the sky over both of them as they strolled back the passageway, floating in their musings as the mists and air pockets above. 

Together they sewed their story through the texture of time. Their wedding meandered into recollections; supplanted with the everyday assignments of a real existence as one. He constructed his profession; she sought after her specialty. Together, they confronted the days, two as one; every independent while fortified - not partitioned - by reliance. 

Consistently, he maintained his responsibility, setting his lips against her, regardless of whether she was at that point snoozing, as he moved into bed. 

The death of the schedule carried with it the "standard thing" good and bad times; profession changes, contracts, get-aways, kids, soccer matches, birthday celebrations, the loss of guardians - and always every now and again - companions. Regardless of everything - or in light of everything - every single night, he maintained his north star as he slid on to the sleeping pad, pulling with care the covers up over both of them. 

His hair was more slender now; hers grayer. 

They moved somewhat more gradually, visited the specialist somewhat more frequently, settled down in the family room somewhat more early. Smooth more youthful skin had been supplanted with the indications of maturing. Wrinkles fanned out from the edges of their mouths with crow's feet embellishing their eyes. However, even now, decades later, the flash he saw when he took a gander at her on that warm summer day had not blurred. Their thirties were some time in the past recollections, kept alive in photograph collections, yet the solidness and vitality of youth had been supplanted with the quality, fellowship, and delicate quality of untold days together. He was more enamored with her now than he ever could have envisioned. 

She lay on her side confronting the contrary side of the bed, a slight sleeping sound as she relaxed. In the wake of watching her for second as he did most evenings, he pulled back the blanket and slid under its warm grasp, hanging over, he - as he had done a large number of evenings prior and for some more to come - kissed her delicately as she dozed. 

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