Anticipation

There is something incredibly powerful to me about not having to ask.

Not because I expect anyone to read my mind.

But because when someone has truly been paying attention to me…

sometimes they already know.
I spend so much of my life thinking about everyone and everything else.

What needs doing.
Who needs me.
What I’ve forgotten.
What tomorrow requires.

So there is something almost luxurious about someone thinking about me.

Remembering something I said in passing.

Knowing I’ve had a long day.

Sensing when I need attention…

and when what I really need is peace.
That is what anticipation means to me.

It isn’t obedience.

It’s knowing me.

Learning my rhythms, my moods, my pleasures, my silences.

Remembering what makes me smile.

Understanding what drains me.

Knowing that sometimes the most beautiful thing you can give me is your presence…

and sometimes it is space.
Perhaps that is why anticipation feels so intimate to me.

Because somewhere along the way, you stopped simply looking at the Queen…

and started seeing the woman.

The busy woman.
The tired woman.
The creative woman.
The emotional woman.
The woman who gives enormously and still wants, occasionally, to feel quietly cared for too.

I don’t lose my power when you see her.

I feel even more understood.
So when you do something before I ask…

when you remember…

when you notice…

when you somehow know what would make my day a little softer…

that stays with me.

Because devotion, to me, isn’t about constantly proving how much you can do for me.

It’s about knowing me well enough to understand what matters.

Consideration notices me.
Attentiveness learns me.