One day, when it’s our turn, we’ll dance the night away. Right there on the street like a couple of young people at the start of their adventure, we’ll dance and laugh and drink. They’ll mistake us for newlyweds, giddy and giggling, lost in places unfamiliar, tasting and smelling and feeling everything new.

One day, when it’s our turn, we’ll take our time during dinner. We’ll laugh over delicious food as we reminisce about youthful folly and talk about everything that’s still ahead of us. We’ll hold hands and be comfortable in the silences in between, knowing that not everything has to be said out loud.

One day, when it’s our turn, mornings will be slow. We’ll drink our coffee in silence, watching the sunrise and letting our thoughts unfurl like petals. Maybe we’ll go on walks, maybe we’ll make love, maybe we’ll sleep in; whatever it is we decide to do, it will be done unhurried.

One day, when it’s our turn, our bodies will belong to us again. They may be a little broken, and not as good as new, but it will be strengthened by the years we put in. The years of life we’ve lived will be seen on the lines on our skin, and we will be happy to see them there – the privilege of growing old together.

One day, it will be our turn. But it is not our turn today.

Today, we get to dance with our children in our living room, holding them close. Today, it is the start of their adventure. We get to show them the world as we create it – magical, and full, and true.

Today, we share dinners on a messy table, negotiating “one more bite”. We’re sharing food and our lives together, telling stories and creating inside jokes and laughing at all the silly things. There are no silent moments, but we get to revel in the noise that comes with happy children. This is the safest of spaces, where they don’t have to measure any of their thoughts or feelings. We ge to feast on food, and we get to feast on love.

Today, we get to fill our mornings with the rush of futures still unfolding. It starts with kisses from small mouths and little people rubbing sleep from their eyes. We get to see them begin, watch them stretch and discover and become. We get to create a life where they feel prepared to take the world on and everything it will throw their way.

Today, our bodies are linked with theirs. We feel every pain, we experience every joy, share in every failure or victory. It’s their hands we hold, their faces we wipe, their tears we share in. They need our bodies to hold theirs for comfort when they don’t understand the world; to be strong so they can crumble and unravel in safety. During this blip in time, we are their fortress, we are their rest.

One day, it will be our turn. The house will be quiet and our calendars will not be so full.

But today, it is theirs. We get to plant them like trees beside a river. We get to see them take root, grow strong, and bloom. One day, on a day we’ll hopefully get to see, they can choose to give that turn to someone else too. We will see that we never really paused our lives at all, it just had to look a little different, just for a little bit.

One day, it will be our turn, and it will be all the more beautiful.