The Weekend That Held Us Gently
Some weekends are quiet wins. Not flashy, not planned, but stitched together with warmth, time, and the right kind of company. This was one of those weekends—and I don’t want to forget it.
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Friday
We had a child-free evening, and we made the most of it.
We headed into town and stopped at The Terrace—wine for me, pints for Joel. We shared some food, sat in the sun, and just let the day slow down around us. No rushing. No background noise. Just space to breathe and be together.
On the way home we dropped into The Delly for one more, then took the long way back. Joel stopped to help a kid pump up his bike tyre—classic him. Thoughtful without thinking. We ended up sat in the front garden, soaking up the last of the sun, talking about the future like it was something real and close.
Later, we curled up on the sofa and watched The Descent. It was intense—bleak at the end—but kind of perfect too. Something about watching horror while feeling completely safe beside someone you love. Then bed. Quiet, warm, ours.
Saturday
Joel didn’t have work until later, so we stayed in bed longer than usual.
Made love like teenagers, but with all the weight and softness of knowing each other properly. No rush. No noise. Just that kind of closeness that can’t be faked.
After I dropped him at work, I spent time with Mum and Tilly, then picked Joel back up and we headed to the bathing pools. We swam proper laps this time—more movement, more laughter. We felt good.
We grabbed waffles afterwards, and sat eating together at the table.
That’s when I read his blog post.
And I don’t even have the words for how it hit me.
Every line was full of care. Of quiet, unforced love. I sat there eating waffles, hair still damp from the sea, and just… felt it. The way he loves me. The way he sees me. The way I matter to him.
We ran errands after that—cat food, little bits—and then I dropped him home. Nothing big. But the kind of day you tuck away. One that fills your lungs differently.
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It was full of moments that remind me what it feels like to be calm. To be chosen. To be part of something that’s building, slow and strong.
He’s the man I walk home with.
The one who stops to help people.
The one who writes about me with his whole heart.
And I’m the woman who read those words—eating waffles, hair damp from the sea—and felt more loved than I knew what to do with. ❤️🔥