Earlier this year on a family holiday to Queensland, the mysterious Kinipela and I had an afternoon alone while our children were with friends. We decided to spend that time going for a walk in the Noosa Headlands.

A little way into the walk we found ourselves on a rocky beach. There were two other people there, but some distance away. It was peaceful.

Quiet.

Still.

Someone had been there before us and balanced a few rocks on top of each other.

Without speaking we both started to do likewise.

I have no idea how long we were there. It could have been 5 hours. It could just as easily have been 5 minutes. The reality is probably somewhere between the two. Not that it matters.

We crouched, sat, and knelt while trying to make rocks balance. Did I mention it was quiet? I think I mentioned it was peaceful.

We didn’t speak much. It wasn’t necessary. We weren’t working in each other’s pockets, but a distance apart. We regularly glanced across at each other. We took the odd photo. We each took breaks from our efforts to sit and admire each other’s work, or to wander across for a kiss, a touch, a brushing of hands.

When I look back over the last 12 months, that afternoon stands as a highlight.

The significance of this may not make sense to anyone else. But that doesn’t matter. I really only wrote this for one person. I’m pretty sure she’ll get it. She always does.

Kinipela and I have been married for 17 years today. We don’t do everything together, but we do a lot of things together. We don’t share all the same interests, but we respect and encourage each other to pursue them. We have different capacities for social interaction, but we have found an approach and a rhythm that works for us. We have travelled through life together for what is approaching two decades and continue to grow closer and closer.

Sometimes we are in each other’s pockets. Other times we are glancing over to see what the other is doing. Sometimes we are holding each other. Other times we are grabbing quick kisses while heading in different directions.

We seem to balance together. We are at peace. Together.

Sometimes we are enjoying the same things. Sometimes similar things. Sometimes completely different things. But always together.

Even when we are apart, we are together. Always stacking rocks.

Always have been.

Always will be.

Always.

Happy anniversary.

Wherever you happen to be reading it now, Jonathan published this post at: BookBoy.net