are tossed to my left. One of her boots rests on its side against one of my shoes, and my tee shirt landed slightly further from the altar, near the steps. Nearby, under slacks that still hold my undone belt in their loops, I glimpse ivory lace.
When I knelt here, it was my intention to find and slide delicate fabric back up the legs that carried her to me, but as I look around and don’t see her sweater, I remember lifting that cotton from her long before we were here. I remember holding her and praying with her in the pew, and I remember how sodden-soft she felt on my lap. I remember how soaked through she was between my fingers and thin lace, and I think maybe returning that same lace to her now couldn’t possibly be comfortable.
Kissing the sole of the foot I’m still cradling, I’m rewarded with a tiny hum that’s almost a giggle, and I wish so much suddenly that we were in my bed. There’s no part of me that would change any part of this for anything, but in this moment, I long to wrap her in my sheets.
Standing as I tug boxers and slacks back on, I find Lacie’s eyes. They wait on mine as I pull my tee shirt over my head, and while I’m bringing it down my stomach, she sits up and reaches with both hands for my belt. Her irises gleam under my attention, reflecting adoration beat for beat as she buckles me together.
Bending for clerical cotton, I pick it up and when I bring it around light’s naked form, she extends her arms into long sleeves with a smile that brightens the whole chapel.
Deepened by confirmation, my pulse beats with the same one of a kind fervor it always has for this person. Leaning down, I kiss her worry-free forehead.
“Wait right here?” I ask, bringing the sides of my shirt together on her but not buttoning them.
Glowing love nods, holding my face as I brush both hands between her skin and starched soft cotton, almost too enamored with the look and feel of her in my garment.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell her lowly, lips over and along hers, kissing and missing already.
She nods again, and as I stand straight, pulling socks and shoes on without bothering to tie them, I can barely stand to take my eyes away. All bare legs and too-long black sleeves over her hands, little agna Dei smiles at me with newfound innocence and undeniable allure.
Beaming, my heart beats.
“Don’t you move, love.”
“I won’t,” she promises, voice light and toes wiggling as she tucks tousled locks of brown behind her ears.
“Hurry,” she tells me.
And I do.
Out the same doors I let her in, I jog across the dark parking lot with purpose coursing steadily through me. As fresh air cools my arms and fills my lungs, stars and orange light from the rectory’s porch lamp guide my way.
Inside the sleepy-quiet house that’s been my shelter for years, the air is cozy and familiar with the scent of incense and linen. It’s warm with comfort and memories as I move through the dark hallways. There’s thankfulness and nostalgia, and earnest peace of mind in my heart, but I know as I enter my bedroom, this place isn’t my home anymore.
The gift Lacie and I have been given goes beyond who we are as people. We don’t carry it, but are within it. No matter where we are on Earth or what we are—student, guardian, daughter, Father, man, wife—we are love, and love keeps us.
As sure as God laid the stars in the sky for light, He laid love in me to make Lacie shine.
Grabbing clothes from my dresser, I shut my door quietly behind myself and head back outside with truth and confidence guiding every untied step of my jog.
Back inside Saint Casilida’s, the remaining fragrance of roses and faint, familiar scent of violets greets me like an air of assurance. When I turn from the entry hall, dipping my fingertips into the holy water there and requesting His blessing before stepping forward, my heart brims with beats made of divine strength for what my eyes find.
Wrapped in my shirt, Lacie sits on the
When I knelt here, it was my intention to find and slide delicate fabric back up the legs that carried her to me, but as I look around and don’t see her sweater, I remember lifting that cotton from her long before we were here. I remember holding her and praying with her in the pew, and I remember how sodden-soft she felt on my lap. I remember how soaked through she was between my fingers and thin lace, and I think maybe returning that same lace to her now couldn’t possibly be comfortable.
Kissing the sole of the foot I’m still cradling, I’m rewarded with a tiny hum that’s almost a giggle, and I wish so much suddenly that we were in my bed. There’s no part of me that would change any part of this for anything, but in this moment, I long to wrap her in my sheets.
Standing as I tug boxers and slacks back on, I find Lacie’s eyes. They wait on mine as I pull my tee shirt over my head, and while I’m bringing it down my stomach, she sits up and reaches with both hands for my belt. Her irises gleam under my attention, reflecting adoration beat for beat as she buckles me together.
Bending for clerical cotton, I pick it up and when I bring it around light’s naked form, she extends her arms into long sleeves with a smile that brightens the whole chapel.
Deepened by confirmation, my pulse beats with the same one of a kind fervor it always has for this person. Leaning down, I kiss her worry-free forehead.
“Wait right here?” I ask, bringing the sides of my shirt together on her but not buttoning them.
Glowing love nods, holding my face as I brush both hands between her skin and starched soft cotton, almost too enamored with the look and feel of her in my garment.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell her lowly, lips over and along hers, kissing and missing already.
She nods again, and as I stand straight, pulling socks and shoes on without bothering to tie them, I can barely stand to take my eyes away. All bare legs and too-long black sleeves over her hands, little agna Dei smiles at me with newfound innocence and undeniable allure.
Beaming, my heart beats.
“Don’t you move, love.”
“I won’t,” she promises, voice light and toes wiggling as she tucks tousled locks of brown behind her ears.
“Hurry,” she tells me.
And I do.
Out the same doors I let her in, I jog across the dark parking lot with purpose coursing steadily through me. As fresh air cools my arms and fills my lungs, stars and orange light from the rectory’s porch lamp guide my way.
Inside the sleepy-quiet house that’s been my shelter for years, the air is cozy and familiar with the scent of incense and linen. It’s warm with comfort and memories as I move through the dark hallways. There’s thankfulness and nostalgia, and earnest peace of mind in my heart, but I know as I enter my bedroom, this place isn’t my home anymore.
The gift Lacie and I have been given goes beyond who we are as people. We don’t carry it, but are within it. No matter where we are on Earth or what we are—student, guardian, daughter, Father, man, wife—we are love, and love keeps us.
As sure as God laid the stars in the sky for light, He laid love in me to make Lacie shine.
Grabbing clothes from my dresser, I shut my door quietly behind myself and head back outside with truth and confidence guiding every untied step of my jog.
Back inside Saint Casilida’s, the remaining fragrance of roses and faint, familiar scent of violets greets me like an air of assurance. When I turn from the entry hall, dipping my fingertips into the holy water there and requesting His blessing before stepping forward, my heart brims with beats made of divine strength for what my eyes find.
Wrapped in my shirt, Lacie sits on the
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