Tuesday, March 22, 2016

i'm gonna dream about the time when i'm with you

I know he loves me when we cuddle and his fingertips lightly graze my knee.

I know he loves me when we're hiking through a slot canyon and he helps me up every boulder even though I can probably do it myself.

I know he loves me when he says that if someone had a gun to the dog's head and a gun to my head, he would choose me every time.

When he does the dishes all by himself and beams at me like a child.

When he can't keep his hands to himself.

When he says we can leave the gym before he's ready.

When he tickles my back or plays with my hair or rubs my feet.

When he offers to cook me dinner.

When he asks me what I want to watch on Netflix.

When he listens to me play piano.

When he says he loves listening to me play piano.

When he lets me read Harry Potter to him.

He kisses me softly when I'm wearing lipstick.

He says, "I do," every time I hand him his wedding ring.

He eats breakfast when I make it, even though he doesn't eat breakfast.

I knew my husband loved me when we knelt across the altar.

I knew my husband loved me when he told me he had to run to the restaurant's bathroom for an upset stomach and that he "might be in there awhile" when, really, he was calling my mother and his brother because he was so nervous to propose later that night.

I knew my husband loved me when he went to my parents' house and saw my dad cleaning his guns, but still asked for his blessing, even after my dad gave him a bullet and said he would use it if my husband ever hurt me.

I knew my husband loved me when he left in the middle of our biggest fight, got on the road to drive two hours home, but came back after an hour because he couldn't leave me that way.

I knew my husband loved me when we were laying on the couch at two in the morning after dating only a few weeks, and he leaned in and whispered, "I think I'm falling in love with you."