Anchors.

I love the way our names sound together. I love hearing two words, just random letters put together to make a nice sound, sound so well matched. It's like a rhythm or a melody. It's like saying the names of two happily [married] people over and over until the way you say it becomes comfortable. Becomes awkward if you split it up. And now I say our names to myself and hear that. I hear how his name flows into mine, and maybe just a little, if you're talking about us and you just say his name, maybe it sounds a little naked and bare. And maybe it longs for a companion like, say, my name. 

Evan and Larissa.

I cannot get over the way that sounds. The way that sounds in my mind as I walk by our wedding pictures. The way it sounds when I do married things like sign checks or write cards. The way it always comes to mind when I say the familiar name of a couple friend. The way I say their names and they flow and match. Just like ours.

Evan and Larissa.

I love the way Evan sleeps next to me. How comfortable and routine his sleeping his. That he will search for my feet to hold between his legs to warm them up. And then drape his long legs over mine and curl us together. And if he's having a particularly good non-snoring night, the space between his shoulder and chest is the most perfect mold for my head. The way his breathing deepens and slows and the moment I can tell exactly when he has fallen asleep. 

Evan and Larissa.

I love the ways we fit each other. How he is full where I am lacking. He speaks, I listen. He sings, I dance. He sleeps, I dream. When I step back and examine us, I just think, how could you not believe when I am such a match for him? When he is such a match for me? How could you not believe that God picked him from all the world to be mine. To fit to me. How could you not believe that God fashioned me from his rib, just like Adam and Eve? When we are so alike and so different at the exact same time. When he can hear my heart calling him from across the room, across the street, across the city. When he knows the exact thing to say. When there is nothing more to say than just, we fit. 

Evan and Larissa.

Evan and Larissa.

 Evan and Larissa.  

evan has since shaved that gnarly beard and gifted the shavings to me while i was on my tonsil deathbed. it was terrifying (i have a thing with presents in fists. i just.....can't....) i love that first picture. he's a goof. it's so him. i cropped it funny on accident and loved it. there are such things as good mistakes. i'm also really into blurry pictures right now. so i don't care that this picture isn't perfect. i like that it's messy. we're kind of messy people. it's us. evan. and. larissa.