I’d Rather Be Fishin’

Two and a half years.

They are two and a half years apart.

Their relationship is close, intense.

Turbulent, at times.

They want to be together, constantly.

And they fight over who will push the elevator call button, who will carry the backpack, who will stand on the step stool to brush teeth.

But they are so crazy about each other.

They walk through life holding hands.

And they sit by each other, more often than not.

I find them, frequently, sitting in one bean bag, rather than two.

The bickering is temporary, I hope.

And these moments?

I’m counting on these to be the ones that stick.