He leans over to kiss me on the back of my neck as I wash the dishes.
His arm slides across my shoulders as we sit on the front pew.
He gently turns off the iPad and removes the earbuds after I’ve fallen asleep to another episode of The West Wing.
He fixes dinner {again} because I’ve been working all day to launch this new website.
He puts gas in my car and makes sure I have Pepsi to drink.
He saves the words we’ve written to each other.
He tells me I am the only beautiful woman he’s ever seen.
He listens to my dreams and helps me chase after them.
I look at him sometimes and I can feel my heart in my throat. In the past year we’ve watched a marriage, a family, fall apart. We’ve hurt for way this sacred commitment can be trampled and laid waste. We’ve cried together at the devastation left when a marriage ends … and we’ve talked long and hard about our determination to make our marriage work, to make it last.
“You are my whole world,” I whisper in the darkness. Tears well up in my eyes because the idea of life without this man, this lover, this friend, physically hurts. I wonder at the gift of marriage, this union of souls, of bodies, of hearts. Husbands and wives, bound together, in every possible way. That’s how our love works. Over time we’ve become so woven into the fabric of one another it’s sometimes hard to know where I stop and he begins.
And so, today, I just want to say I’m thankful to be Mrs. Scott Underwood. Happy Valentine’s Day, babe. I love you.
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