hold on

In the almost, but not quite, middle of the night, I snuggled close to my sweetie,
and asked, in a soft whisper, "Will you please hold my hand?"

Four hours before we fought over whose turn it was to change the baby's diaper.
Five hours before he was annoyed with me for leaving the water pitcher empty.
Six hours before I was annoyed at him for leaving his clothes all over.
Seven hours before we fought over whose turn it was to walk the dogs.

One minute after he intertwined his fingers with mine.

And I snuggled there in the dark, both loving and being loved.
And I tried to hold on to that feeling because that is the one that matters.

And I'm writing it down now because I know it will be hard to hold on to that. 
Especially if I get home and find his socks still on the floor.