He put down his book and went to the kitchen. She was at the cutting table where she sliced and diced making it look like performance art. Music softly played and her hair brushing bare shoulders, and the sundress she wore, swayed with the rhythm of her hips. After so many years, the sight still moved him.
“Let us read, let us dance; these two amusements will never do any harm to the world.”
She didn’t turn but he knew she smiled; it came out in the tone, “Nice but not yours…”
“Voltaire was right…” her back still turned, focused on what was before her, he put his arms around her. The warmth of her always made him feel good… and happy. She sighed and leaned into his arms. “But I’m done reading…,” he brushed her hair to one side and his lips touched her neck, the nape, then moved to linger near the side of her smile.
She shifted to look over her shoulder and softly kissed him. She held his arm as they moved away from the counter to the middle of the large kitchen.
It was… she was… the song was… perfect.
See the smile awaitin’ in the kitchen
Food cookin’ in the plates for two
Feel the arms that reach out to hold me
In the evening when the day is through…