“Do you remember how this started?” he hugged me closer.

I knew what he meant.

“Years ago we lay in this same position, spent and tangled together, looking like the product of a Twister game gone wrong.  I started to move, reaching for a drink, and you held me closer.  You told me how our bodies were perfect in this position; and if we used it often it’d remind us of our love for each other (because you couldn’t lie like this with someone you didn’t love) and we’d get through anything.  You then, proclaimed our entanglement the official post-sex position and handed me your pop.”

“Even in my younger years I had amazing insight.” 

He picks up his carelessly flung shirt and wipes the foggy window.  Through the streaks we see the credits rolling.  He puts his shirt on and hands me mine with an exaggerated pouty lip.

“I don’t want to go.” I recite the line from countless dates and remember the disappointment that comes when he drops me off and drives away- the agonizing ordeal of being apart.

Yawning, we flip the backseat up and our bed becomes a vehicle again.  I climb into the passenger seat, glad he’s driving.  The opening scene of the next movie roars to life as we leave the Drive-In. 

I wake up as we pull into the driveway.  I open my eyes and smile.  I’ve always loved waking up to him.  He leans over and kisses my forehead.  My smile is swallowed by another yawn as I look at the familiar house. 

“Ready?” he smiles.

I take a deep breath and nod; surprised the pit stop didn’t wake me up.  We each get out and quietly close our doors.  Just as quietly, we open the back doors and gather our sleeping children, worn out by their babysitting aunt.  We’re practiced at these maneuvers and the doors close again silently. 

He unlocks the front door and I follow him to the kids’ room.  He lies the boy down and pulls the blankets up to his chin while I tuck the girl in.  We look at them, then at each other and head to our room.

“Happy Anniversary.” he whispers. 

My thoughts return to this evening’s festivities. I’d never given it much thought until my recount of its origin; but it occurs to me that most of our major discussions, arguments, debates, heartaches and celebrations had been had in the official- post sex position.  Maybe he had been more insightful than I thought. 

We’re definitely doing something right.  I love him today more than I did all those years ago when we first fell in love and every second apart was an eternity.  I still, sometimes, have to refrain from skipping in public after he sends me a cute text message.  He still understands me better than I understand myself; and I still can’t get enough of him.  I still can’t believe anyone would cheat on him; and his gentle patience with the kids still amazes me.  My heart still races with excitement when he comes home early, or cocks his head to one side; and the day he doesn’t make me smile has yet to pass.

“Happy Anniversary.”

Lying in our bed, situated again in the official post-sex position, his eyes are lit by the moonlight.  It snuck in through a slit in the blinds and left everything else untouched in the darkness, drawn, as I am, only to him.