HIM

There are times, late at night, when I'm sitting next to him and he's sleeping, that I'm overcome with the urge to touch him. So I'll slip down beneath the covers very carefully and slide my body next to his, without disturbing him~and he'll radiate warmth. Then without waking him, I'll rest my lips ever-so-lightly against his skin; never his lips, but his back or shoulder, or hand ... and let my cheek linger there as I inhale the scent of his skin.

Sometimes I just watch him, moved by the love that's grown between us over time; heart-pounding, exciting love; humbling, unsophisticated love. Never do I tire of searching his face for the familiarity and kindness I've grown so used to finding there. I know he'll have one arm curled around a pillow, and I know that at least one part of him will be touching me ... because touching me brings him peace. And if he's not too deeply asleep when I lean in and kiss him, he will always, without fail, instinctively reach out and wrap his hand around me.

Once in a while, I get to do this when he's awake, when we find time away from kids and chores and commitments and insanity. We can curl up in our room by ourselves, and I get to stare into the warmest hazel eyes ever seen. And that's when you truly do see the depths of goodness in this man I've committed my life to. There's no pretense or meanness; just a man who loves his wife and takes his vow to love, honour and cherish seriously...as do I.

I love you.