Jamie and I were chopping firewood. He split the logs with an axe, but kept glancing over at me.

Gillian: “If you end up chopping into your leg because you keep looking at me, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Jamie: “I work better when someone is watching. Especially when that someone is you.”

We loaded the split logs into the wheelbarrow.

Jamie: “Do you realize we work side by side all the time without really thinking about it?”

Gillian: “That’s just everyday life.”

We stacked the wood beside the house.

Jamie: “For some people, everyday life is boring. For me, it’s actually pretty good. I mean that. I don’t just want the big moments with you. I want exactly this.”

Gillian: “Splinters in your fingers and wood shavings in your hair?”

Jamie: “Yes. And you standing next to me, knowing everything better.”

Gillian: “Well, that’s reassuring.”

But he didn’t let it go.

Jamie: “I don’t just want to be your safe place. I want to be your home. Not somewhere you stay for a while… but somewhere you truly belong.”

Gillian: “Jamie… I am staying.”

He went back to chopping wood. Jamie (thought bubble): “Not someday. Not maybe. Not just letting things continue like this. I’m going to ask her. And I’ll do it right.” I kept stacking the wood. Gillian (thought bubble): “What was he actually trying to tell me just now? That was more than just a sentence. And why does it suddenly feel so serious?” Jamie had been standing still for quite a while, deep in thought.

Gillian: “You’re thinking too loudly.”

Jamie: “I know. A dangerous habit.”

Silently, we walked back into the house together. Some decisions aren’t made with big words. They happen between wood shavings and everyday moments. And sometimes only one of them knows that something has just begun.