The sun rose gauzy, butter yellow and poured through curtains thick like syrup on the pancakes she was making. She loved the morning. Loved bird sounds and dew on grass and children boarding school busses.

She loved.

And this morning that love coursed through her like the water, hot and sure and steady that beat on her back during the shower she took. And her heart skipped a beat thinking, “soon.” and his face materialized in her mind and she smiled, trying to remember a time when she’d felt so much. When she’d smiled so much. When she’d laughed this much. She couldn’t recall. If you’d asked her, she’d have told you she’d been in love before. Of course she had. But never like this.

Oh, God, how she loved.

And it was sweet, and easy, like breathing, like singing the melody she hummed as she picked out her clothes for the day. Sweet like the quick smile she gave herself in the mirror. Easy like the spin she did as she walked to the closet. Easy like jeans, and a tank top thrown on the bed. Sweet like throwing one of his dress shirts on too. Sweet like giggling and smelling him on it. Easy like the way it fit on her like it was made for her when it was made for him. Easy like they were the same person. Sweet like they were the same person.

Sweet like this love, strange and sweet like this love she was in. Like nothing she’d ever been in before. Sweet like this love, warm and free like this love she was in.

Love warm like sunshine and steady like water and sure like laughter and graceful like dancing and free like short, sweet notes of a love song ringing out across empty fields. Love resounding like echoes. Love inevitable like twilight, pure and beautiful like full moons and blankets of stars, love peaceful like sleep. Love sweet. Love sweet like being cuddled into a good dream.

Love like sunshine, gauzy, butter yellow, pouring through curtains thick like syrup on pancakes.

Sweet like smiles when she realizes she gets to do it all over again.