Lately, I’ve been fighting against the current to break routine. The days are long and full, so by the time we’ve tackled bedtime for two zealous-for-life boys, the grand finale of the evening often includes dinner and Netflix in bed. A ritual I had no complaints about until I discovered what I was missing. 

We’ve been working on fixing up our tiny backyard bit by bit, because apparently you have to be rich to afford decent landscaping. We’ve inherited some outdoor furniture, including the hammock I spent many summers contemplating life in at my grandparents’ lake house. We’ve strung thick Edison bulbs and filled terra cotta pots with pops of color tucked in all the nooks and crannies. We spend a good portion of our days back there, Cyrus in his sand box or bird watching with his yellow binoculars and nature book and me balancing a baby on my hip.

But every time I envision this space or gather inspiration, I always picture it at dusk. I picture cozy date nights spent tangled in the hammock, sharing dark chocolate and dreams. Unfortunately, this romantic ideal typically gets overshadowed by our impending exhaustion after boys are tucked in. And no matter how many twinkle lights we hang, the appeal of pizza and Netflix in bed almost always wins out. Until a couple of nights ago. 

Our touching shoulders and shared screen is no match for looking one another in the eyes and drawing out truth. 

Matt made shrimp, zucchini pasta in his deep dish cast iron skillet (thank you Jarod and Becca) and we were resolved to eating it outside. So by eight o clock, we plugged in the monitor on the back porch and sat on the steps with full bowls and talked more than we had in weeks. And not just logistics of the day, coordinating child care, catching each other up on the productivity (or lack there of) of our days. We had deep, meaningful conversations as we looked each other in the eyes. Matt got vulnerable with his desire for his music as I pressed in and asked questions. We ended the evening swaying in the hammock under a canopy of warm lights, bellies and hearts fuller than they’d been in a long time. 

We don’t always realize what we are missing when we are content with what’s in front of us. It’s hard to beat sharing ice cream from the carton and a good crime show in our warm beds after a day of hard work and chaos. We think what our souls need is to power down for the evening. Our brains and bodies empty shells with no room left for another “plan” or break from routine. But what we often miss out on is curated space for connection and healing. Our touching shoulders and shared screen is no match for looking one another in the eyes and drawing out truth. 

I have to remind myself sometimes that Matt and I are more than teammates, expertly passing the baton throughout the course of any given day to ensure all items get respectively checked off the list. We are lovers and best friends, co-dreamers, advocates, cheerleaders who thrive on laughter and shared experiences. And sometimes on hard questions and gentle admonishing. But we rarely allow ourselves opportunity to be all those things for one another because it requires that little bit of extra effort often at the end of the day when nothing is left to give. 

Here is what I am resolved to after having seen the other side. I will fight for intimacy that often exists just beyond the complacency of our tired souls. I will work to break routine and create room conducive for rich conversation and meaningful moments. Because I believe there are bits of magic floating all around us like fireflies, if we’ll only take the time to open our jars and capture them. And what our souls often need is not more filler, but more space to exhale and remember what it longed for to begin with.