Nap with her. Arrive in the middle of a too-hot summer day and take her up to bed for the unfussy, naked, intermittent conversation usually earmarked for real couples on Sunday mornings. When you do this for her, say, sleep. Tender her hair with one hand, even while the other is less intent on charming her toward drowsiness. Employ the kind of skittery touch (imagine yourself on Big Shag Lake, luring pike) that, with repetition, becomes less gentle, less fingertips and more hands, until the letting go that comes with sleep becomes unthinkable for her. When you visit on her birthdays, ask, tell me what you’re thinking about.
( This is the present.Collapse ) Text originally published in decomP, images from here.