We were sitting under the tree again, in our usual pose: me with my arms around his neck, his arms around my waist with his back to the trunk.
This place made everything so much easier, easier to forget, to talk, to think about trivial things… as I was doing now.
Me: You’re strong.
He chuckled. Him:Thank you.May I ask what brought on this compliment? Not that it isn’t true…
I rolled my eyes and shoved him playfully. Me: big-headed much? (He grinned, waiting for me to answer. I sighed.) I was thinking about how you picked me up that day… when you threatened me with water torture.
He rolled his eyes muttering something incoherent. He then spoke in a louder voice. Him: I lift weights. Hence the abs.
I poked his hard stomach. He chuckled, leaning in to kiss my forehead.
We always started like this: with the trivial, unimportant, ridiculous little things.Playful kisses, shoves, remarks, until we finally began talking seriously, about college, my dad, his mom.There is something comforting in tradition.