Yep, standing on the balcony of our hotel room in Tel Aviv, watching the sun set on the edges of the Mediterranean Sea, I considered the 12 hours that represented our overnight stay, and for a moment found them wanting.
Ah, sleep; the lethargy that had settled in my bones following a 15-hour day touring had yet to win the current debate between want and need. Even with 60 being the new 50, I knew my chances of seeing the other side of midnight were as slim as me seeing any more of the city than what my balcony afforded.
“Mm,” I managed in response, welcoming the warmth of my lover's body next to mine but not wanting the distraction of a conversation to intrude on my new train of thought.
It had taken my lifetime for this particular moment, in all its singular glory, to unfold. I sighed peacefully as the full weight of my good fortune silenced any further debate.