Day Eight - An Ode to the Hidden Hours

There is something magical about a secret of the heart. A secret in where there is no shame, no sin, no lie. A secret that is simply kept and tucked away, because it's a sacred thing, hidden deep in the beat of the heart. And then, every time it beats, a whisper of the hidden hours flows back into you. This is my ode to them, because tonight, the hidden hours revived me.

You are my secret warmth in a world determined to be cold. When we are together, in our secret hours, there is a magic in the air that shimmers with thousands of possibilities. The question is never what will we do, only which delight we will chase. I can breathe in the brisk air with you, because in a moment it will be a giggle, a squeal of delight escaping my lips as I find myself lost in the pleasure of rushing down a slick steel slide in a wool skirt and catching air before I reach the bottom. And when I do, I don't want move, I just want to look up and lose my breath again as thousands of Christmas lights sparkle around me. And so I do, because you'll understand. You'll stand next to me, and we'll enjoy the silence of the sparkling cold.

In the hidden hours, I am never hidden. I am found. Again and again and again. In the hidden hours, I find you too. In the hidden hours, I am seen. In the hidden hours, I can see with more clarity than a January sky. Tonight, I saw the perfection of the best Chai Tea Latte in existence. Tonight, I relished the feeling of tingling lips, and the relief of cold water rushing over my burning tongue. Tonight, I relived the beginning of a friendship and the memory, the one we've made in its retelling, is the one that will stay with me. And you and I will be friends.

There is an innocence; there is an immersion in the hidden hours. There is an honesty in indulging in the sound of your voice and the colors of your stories and the patterns that they weave. There is an honesty in being seen, in wanting you to see me. There is an honesty in seeing you, in wanting to see you.

The hidden hours are never too long, or too short. They offer a sort of reprieve, but they revive at the same time. They drain me of despair and complication, and fill me with thanksgiving and simple delight. They are a gift. And an offering that requires no sacrifice. There are no words to express how much I appreciate my hidden hours with you, but even if there were, they would fall flat. For we make them, together.

For all the hidden hours that have been, and all the hidden hours to come - I am blessed to share them with you.