you're always here in my dreams - m.j

moments so gloriously alive 1991

     "When dreamers dream and kiss their lover
And rainbows weave and splash their color
Those are moments so gloriously alive
We take the plunge, take the dive
Into the abyss
We are suspended awhile
Those are moments when babies smile,"

     Michael's eyes closely follow his inscribed handwriting with his stunning ebony eyes. He carefully recites every word he creatively produced in his aged journal; the delicate gold embellishing designed after the likeness of an antique book appears worn and the binding creased and threatened to tear from time spent folded in half while he poeticized his visions. I had purchased the journal for him around six years ago so that he wouldn't have to write his poetic or song ideas on napkins or whatever scattered shred of paper there was around.

"Those are moments when fate is unsealed
Nothing is impossible and we are healed
We can soar, we can fly
Walk on fire, navigate the sky
In the light of a glittering star
There's no distance, nothing is far
Those are moments of innocent guile
In the glow
We are suspended awhile
Those are moments when babies smile,"

     I rest my head on my arm that lays on the edge of the bathtub, filled with still water, it's top layer bearing a thick blanket of white iridescent bubbles. I closely listen as Michael's gentle rasp emanates in an excited whisper, his hand grasping my own as he holds onto his journal with the other. His thumb repeatedly grazing against the wedding ring I've worn for almost half a decade.

"Those are the moments when the heart is tender
When seascapes gleam in magnificent splendor
When the laughter of Heaven reverberates the earth
And we are renewed in a new birth
In a timeless Eternity,"

     He sits cross legged with his now damp red and black pajama pants on the white dense marble base around the bathtub as I can't help but admire his passion filled spirit, how the tone of his voice rose and fell with the dynamics of his writings, the way his curls lay pulled out of the way of his darting eyes into a loose tie, the way his face and skin remains bare and unmasked. "Imperfections" and all.

"In the angels' fraternity
We romp and roll
In the playground of our soul
In the twilight
We are suspended a while
Those are the moments when babies smile,"

     My thoughts revere every word he speaks, these being of such beauty and inspiration. I know how important moments like these are to him. Moments where we reflect, moments where we hope and pray together for our soon to be growing family as we anticipate our first angelic addition on the way. He pauses for a small moment, his eyes finding their way to my own as he gazes upon my admiring face. His lips immediately curve into a smile as he notices my expression of appreciation, he continues, redirecting his attention back at his notes before my eyes gloss over.

"Those are the moments we're one with God
All is well, nothing is odd
In silent reflection
We feel our perfection we are the source, we are the crucible
Nothing can hurt us, for we are invincible
There is no sin, there is no sinner
We can only win, we have felt the glimmer
In the bliss
We're floating a while
Those are moments when babies smile,"

"Kingdoms topple, lose their class
Civilizations crumble, ages pass
Turbulent tempests ravage the seas
Violent killings, despite our pleas
But dewdrops sparkle when children play
Tyrants cry, there's nothing to slay
Fairies dance and goblins sing
All are crowned, all are king
In the Garden
We frolic a while
Those are the moments when babies smile." He peels his eyes from his journal, turning his head to view me, his emotional mess of a wife.
He can't help but let a small giggle slip past his lips as he sees his affect on me.

"Don't laugh at me!" His purses his lips to attempt to refrain from laughing. "I'm hormonal! You made me like this!" I smile back at him and wipe under my leaking eyes as he closes his journal and sets it aside, away from the bathtub since we can't trust each other and our klutzy streaks.

"Don't blame me! You were this emotional before too, baby," He chuckles, running his fingers through my soaked hair and eventually dragging his fingers to lift my chin and press his gentle lips against my own. Milliseconds before he does however, I stick my tongue out and he's met with a sloppy wet kiss, causing him to repel back while erupting in laughter.

"That's what you get!" He reluctantly agrees, pursing his lips and giving a comical shrug.

"I guess I deserved that," He drags out his words, his eyes tracing my body that remains partially concealed by the water. He trails his fingers from my collarbone to my shoulder delicately, his eyes soon meeting mine once he does.

After a few seconds, he rises to his feet, approaching a small wooden side table equipped with soaps and towels. He picks up a bottled foaming body soap, pumping it into a pile into his hand and intently staring at me with gently curved lips. He prolongs the final pump before elegantly placing the pump back on the table and turning to face me. He slowly cocks his hand backwards, hurling the soap straight at me as it plops on top of my head.

"Fifty points!" He proclaims in victory as if he was playing a carnival game and perfectly hit his target.

"You little twerp!" I name call, causing Michael to practically choke on his screeching laughter. I scoop up water in a glass cup that I intended on using to rinse my hair, but instead use it to try to expel water in his direction, but he skillfully dodges, striking iconic poses as he does so. My failed attempt at a water battle ended up soaking our bathroom floor.

"Takes one to know one!" He taunts, completely dry even despite my retort.

"Takes an even bigger one to marry one!" He giggles, feeling safe enough to approach me and sit beside the bathtub since I've resorted to immature verbal arguments. "-and I've loved every moment of our 'twerping," He once again makes use of his inspiring literary talent, this time to create a new word just for us.

"This very pregnant, very bloated twerp needs a head massage," I look up at him with pleading eyes while I discretely hatch a plan for his downfall. He playfully rolls his eyes as I excitedly relax my head on the side of the tub. He gets on his knees and cups his hand in the bath water, retrieving more bubbles to lay atop my head before rubbing it in until my hair is lathered with soap. His large, warm hands firmly massage at my scalp for a few seconds before he quickly gets distracted and decides that he wants to use the soap to form my hair into a mohawk. His snorts already giving me clues to what he has done to me before he knee-walks in front of me so he could witness my mohawk in all it's glory. Using his knees to walk over disabled him from being able to make a swift escape—hah! Total amateur move—and so I promptly scoop up more water in my glass cup and propel it towards my unsuspecting husband, his white v-neck immediately becomes drenched as I earn a loud, symphonious laugh from Michael.

"Okay, okay, you got me!" He admits as I cheer proudly,

"The king of water fights has been dethroned!" He lifts the fabric of his shirt off his skin, laughing all the while.

"I simply humbled myself to the goddess of water fights," He raises his hands in surrender,

"That's more like it!"