PJ's and Wine

Ah, there is nothing like PJ's and wine. (That sounds like a rock band...). My son has gone to bed, and the there is not a sound from the outside (except maybe the random bird twittering in the distance). The only thing my senses are picking up is a lovely sunset, my partner typing away on a new poem with glowing eyes and deep concentration, dry white wine, and my soft cotton PJ's against my skin. An atmosphere I wouldn't trade, not for many other things... (Now I wonder why I put 'only' at the beginning of the sentence, as I come to realise the richness of the moment). The best things in life are not free at all, a lot of hard work most certainly goes into it. To have, keep and treasure the love affairs with ones beloved partner one must make sacrifices and take risks. To have a son falling asleep so peacefully one must devote oneself endlessly and entirely to the little creature, and that might come easily, but certainly not cheap many times. To drink the nice wine one enjoys, and wear the PJ's one likes, you must spend more than half of the day away from home, family and other pleasures. A good wine and pyjamas one surely does not get without a monetary exchange. To watch and enjoy the sunset, I guess, one must be able to see the sunset, and for that, one must be lucky. Lastly, for the fullness any of these things might behold, one must also be in good health and reasonably happy. So, there is nothing like PJ's and wine. Simply because there is nothing like Pj's and wine.

PS. I've started on the first chapter of a story about love. Will post as soon as complete. The story might be fiction, and it might not be, but no names.