I know I've addressed here previously that I feel blessed to have found him, and how he taught me what love should really be between a husband and wife. And that is all still true. I am a bit of a handful - I'm neurotic and dramatic and sometimes overly sensitive and fragile. And he somehow navigates all of this with skill and grace and professes to love me unconditionally even through my most epic of meltdowns. He makes me feel loved, cherished, safe, beautiful, sexy, brilliant and hilarious - all things I often doubt about myself until he reassures me that at least one person thinks they are all true.
The other night, he came home and I wasn't feeling well, so he made dinner for Benj and for us, and then folded the laundry I'd done that day but hadn't had the energy to fold. All of this after a long and stressful day at work. It's small gestures like that that make me feel unbelievably lucky. He doesn't come home and say, "Where's my dinner?" Or, "Why is the house such a mess?"(Which, sometimes, it is, especially lately when my energy level has not quite been sufficient to keep up with B's mess-making abilities.) He knows instinctively when I need a break, and takes charge with B.
Sunday will be seven years since the luckiest day of my life - the day I met my E.
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