A dear friend, Witt, and I loan books to one another. Normally I rip right through them, but recent events have left me little time for reading. I've had one book from him for a couple of months without cracking it open. I finally did and found a woven bookmark that he made me. Lovely, and simple, and I'll cherish it.
As I am the story...this is wonderful. The more so because it's a first novel, by Patrick Rothfuss, called The Name of The Wind. The prose is engrossing, and the story fascinating. But one passage moved me to tears.
I quote from page 108. "My parents danced together, her head on his chest. Both had their eyes closed. They seemed so perfectly content. If you can find someone like that, someone who you can hold and close your eyes to the world with, then you're lucky. Even if it only lasts for a minute or a day. The image of them gently swaying to the music is how I picture love in my mind even after all these years."
No offense to my favorite gender, but how many men get that? How many men understand the absolute importance of the quiet, almost unnoticed moment that still means more than words can say? Damned few, in my experience...especially if they are straight.
But I have one of the few. His birthday is Friday, and we're entertaining, so I may not have time to post that day. You should know that we often work weddings together; him photographing this so-emotional day, and me officiating, joining the two into one. When our work is done, we wait for the DJ or band to play something slow. "Soul Provider" was our first dance, and if we can request it, we do. And we dance. With our eyes closed.
Happiest of birthdays, my darling. I could never begin to match the gift that you are to me.