In another life, everyone I love will sit around the same dinner table.   
The air is warm and the house is inviting. Everyone's favorite foods are perfectly prepared. There are absentminded smiles all around the room and belly laughter. No one is missing, every seat is filled.  
Someone is passing a plate to the person next to them when the plate falls out of their hand and shatters onto the hardwood floor. It is followed by one single apology and a dozen other voices saying, "hey don't worry about it, it's okay." I feel full, even though I have yet to take a single bite.

  We never learned what it meant to fight or leave without saying goodbye.  
Instead, someone asks me if I've tried any good recipes lately, what my favorite flower is, if I'm warm enough. There is never a shortage of hugs.   
For a moment, I just listen to the sounds, take in the smells. I look at our reflections in the window and think to myself, how grateful am I that this love is all I've ever known.