The happiest days of our lives

I'm trying something new today, and I'm nervous about pushing the 'publish' button. But here goes. Let me know what you think.

I wake in the morning to find Rose returned from her business trip, laying beside me. Her head pokes cutely out from the mountain formed by her blanket. I kiss her good morning. It's good to have her back, to know that we can return to our domestic traditions.

After I shower we share breakfast. I eat oatmeal. She eats Crunchy Nut Corn Flakes. We both drink black tea; it's important to have common ground. We always talk for half an hour or more, about whatever is on our minds. She remembers things, and reminds me of our next few days' plans. I'm forgetful, so tomorrow she'll remind me again. We discuss politics. Etymology. Philosophy. History. When we met, I used to try to impress her with stuff like that, but she usually understands what I'm talking about better than I do. She looks me in the eyes through the steam that rises from her cup, and she smiles. I love that she understands me.

I go to work. My work is fascinating; I make computers do what I want. Well, most of the time. Sometimes it's easier to fix the specs. I am caught up in the joyous flow of practicing a difficult skill. Observed from the outside, it's not very impressive; I sit in front of a computer for nine hours. When I'm done, the boxes are a different shade of gray. It's harder than it looks.

On good days, it feels like I'm done before I start. Today is a good day. I pick up a package at the post office on the way home; clothes for the baby. I walk home in the chill, dry winter air, and I think about being a father. Me. A father. What do people always say about teen pregnancy? Children having children? I am twenty-seven now, but there is no wisdom within these bone walls. I imagine that every new parent is a child having a child.

I cooked Rose's favorites for dinner tonight: Mashed potatoes, creamed spinach and scrambled eggs. I made spaghetti sauce, too, for a party tomorrow night. Half a cup of olive oil. Ten ripe tomatoes. Half a clove of garlic. A whole fresh basil. There is nothing you can do wrong with this combination of ingredients. When the other vegetables are plump and soft, we blend the sauce on a whim, and the resulting sauce is amazing. Her idea.

The day will end like it began, with her next to me beneath her blanket-covered mountain. We'll share the funny parts of our books and laugh together until we feel sleepy. Then we'll kiss good night.

The days of our lives are like this; perfect, priceless pearls strung side on side from now until the end of everything. There are riches beyond counting to be had here in the mundanity of our daily routine.