31: sometimes i think “who am i to have someone love me so dearly, so tenderly, so courageously? who am i to laugh so freely, with such from-the-belly bliss?” sometimes i look at him and think, “how is this even possible? how can someone adore me with tear-streaked cheeks and frizzy, lobbed-it-off-in-the-bathroom hair?” sometimes i wonder “will i ever see what he sees? will i ever remember life beyond the sleepless baby-feeding nights and hurried get-to-the-next-thing days? will i survive all this?” and then i see these moments, snapshots of the candid us and i smile. there’s no living—no loving—more ridiculous and magical than this.
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