Holding Hands on the Way to Places

Noticing the edges in between moments lately.   So many magnificent forgotten fragments...   I adore the nature of ourselves when we are alone and sincere and in the middle of these deep unscripted transitions.       Life is not merely a series of Instagram shots...  it is not one social status update after another.    There is so much happening in between our "special" moments...  while we're on the way to places.   While we're just being ourselves -  before intention or awareness take root. 
The morning,  beams of warm early light through faded curtains.   Warm blankets tangled around a gentle kiss.   Coffee cups.   Reading surf magazines in our underwear.   Reciting dreams while the fragrance of incense fills the room. 
Later.  Holding your hand as we wander down avenues and corridors of Chattanooga.   Fingers interlaced.  Conversation.   The reflections of us in store windows on mighty streets,  the way we glow, the strut and natural integrity of us. 
I feel close to these moments lately.   I feel a kinship and reverence. 
Life is fascinating even when we aren't looking... even in the corners of ordinary.   
On the way somewhere.
It makes you want to pay attention.

Andrew Tipton