Michael always considered himself a pretty simple man. In his eyes, the world was black and white, people were good and bad, and life was never so complicated that the problem couldn't be met with a solution.
He realized every day that he was growing in new ways, ways he didn't even know existed. No, the world was still black and white to him. But there was also a new spot, a blur, a glow, a new dimension in his world that he hadn't realized he had needed so desperately. Now, he wonders sometimes about how he lived before it. How he called it a life when it didn't have Jane.
He got introspective most mornings. He almost always woke up before she did, and he was glad. Every other moment of the day, Jane was Jane. She was busy, and full of life. He loved that about her, you never were bored when Jane was around. But he also liked to have a little bit of time to look at her. She was still except for her breaths gently lifting and dropping her chest, a slight flutter behind her eyelids as she moved about in a place he could not go.

The sun had just begun to rise, it was still soft and golden-orange colored, and too bright to look at just yet. The blinds over the window were parted slightly, so they left a pattern of streaks of light across the lower half of her face. Michael knew within two days just how to position the blinds so that they let in light, but not enough to reach her eyes before she was ready to wake up. She liked to sleep in, and he liked to make sure it happened. He teased her, telling her that she was grouchy when she didn't get enough sleep. They both knew that that wasn't true.
The way the light fell on her face was interesting to him, there was one shadow that ended where her lips met, the top one in darkness and her bottom lip in a streak of light. It followed the line of her lips perfectly, and he smiled because he was pretty sure God had made the light fall to match her. He wouldn't be surprised. Jane was perfect, in every way, and sometimes it seemed like the world bent over backward to watch her, to look at her in wonder. He was perfectly aware that he did.
Another streak of light started just below her right eye. Her head was slightly at an angle, so the line ran parallel to that angle at the bottom of her lashline that went up to meet the top. He loved that spot.
Or there was a place on her left shoulder blade where her freckles lined up just right, and it looked like the constellation Aquila. He liked to put his finger right in the middle of it, and pretend that she was the universe, surrounding him completely. His entire world. It didn't take too much imagination.
Michael thought that metaphor fit. Jane was like a star, shining so bright you could barely stand it, and though she was constantly moving, busy, living life, she also looked at times like she was only standing still, and the entire universe was spinning around her. He figured it probably was. It made sense.
She turned her head and a lock of hair fell onto her neck. It was "boring, mousey brown," she called it. That confused him, because to him, her hair was golden. It gleamed impossibly in the sun, and when they were outside, he would look over at her and have to squint a bit, it was so bright. And there was tiger's eye, her favorite stone when they were growing out, and a bit of something the color of the coffee she was so sure she couldn't live without. There was also fire in there, which made sense. Jane had a fire in her that no one could put out, it kept roaring through all these years, even when she ignored it, it was still there.
She let it come out now, every once in a while. It was quite a sight.
She moved again, and the strand of hair moved further down. He smiled very slightly to himself. He found out new things about himself when he was with her. He never new how passionate he could be, how intensely he could feel something, want something, before her. But that also made sense, because he knew that he could never really feel that way about anything but her. Another one of life's great mysteries, made so simple when he looked at Jane.
This time, when she stirred, it was because she was beginning to wake up, and Michael felt his heart jump at the thought. As much as he loved to watch her sleep, he was starting to miss her. And watching her wake up was even more amazing than watching her sleep.
She starts off by twitching her eyebrows, a quick motion that already shows how she doesn't want to wake up. Then, a big sigh, as if she is pushing away the night, a deep inhale to bring in the new day. A few squirms and her eyes are open. He always feels like that is dessert, the sweet surprise at the end of a meal. Those eyes.
Topaz, amber, chestnut, espresso, ochre, chocolate, mahogany, russet, and taupe. There were several colors in her eyes that he didn't know the names for. Most likely that was because they had not been invented. There might never be a word that could sum up the color of her eyes. At least he hoped not. Those eyes were just for him.
As the fog started to clear away, she saw him above her, gently lit by the rising sun, and smiled. God, that man was beautiful. And she woke like this most mornings, to her glowing husband looking at her as if she hung the moon and stars. She would like to, for him.
She didn't even have to say anything, just looked at him, and he laughed. "I know, don't worry," he said, while reaching behind him to the bedside table, where he pulled a mug of coffee, dark roast, extra sweet, with whipped cream and caramel. She shot him a smile while she took her first sip, and closed her eyes as she enjoyed the singular sensation of coffee sliding down her throat. Jane hummed a bit as she opened her eyes, and sighed happily.
"Much better," she said, and rewarded him the same way she did every morning, with a peck on the lips, and then he pressed their foreheads together, sharing a moment. That moment they took every morning made every day go by just a little bit easier.
"Good morning," he murmured, and she smiled again.
"Hmmm," she replied.
"What shall we do today?"
"Oh, it's Monday!" It was their day off, they always took Mondays off. "Hmm, I don't know. How about you make me breakfast while we decide?"
"Of course, milady," he smiled wryly. "Pancakes?"
"Shaped like flowers," she said, and he smiled as he hopped off the bed.
"Well then, sleepybutt, come one. Let's get this show on the road." She rolled her eyes, and followed him to the kitchen, pausing only to smile as she felt little Angeline kick in her belly.
Yeah, life was bigger for the both of them. Brighter, too.