It was that first evening, years ago, walking into his residence room to meet mutual friends, that I had some sense of fate working its wily way into my life. My favourite books and music, neatly mounted art prints, and, in the open closet, the startlingly brilliant patterns of Liberty print ties. “I might have to marry this man,” I though, bemused, entertaining myself at nineteen at the thought of falling for someone through a wild intuitive leap merely on a matter of taste. It was an awkward first conversation to kindle, both of us clumsy, me not quite sure where to start. As I agonized that spring over other, more tangled infatuations, he threaded his way into my life slowly: with his deeply resonant voice, his eccentric dance moves, his patience. How was it possible that I was right? That this slim, awkward, beautiful boy was the sanest person I had met, and still is: the most loyal, the most courtly, the most kind.

Word prompt: kindle. Daily writing practice with three women across the continent. Today is day 35 in this new form. Looking back over the past month I found this, from the backlog. Posting today for my husband, on his birthday.