Yesterday, my husband and I celebrated 23 years of marriage. This is apparently far above the normal marriage longevity these days, so kudos to us!
When I saw my husband for the first time, my heart did a little skip. The man has the most incredible baby blue eyes and when he flashed his tiny crooked smile at me the first time, my arms prickled and my face flushed. I wasn’t the only woman at the office where we worked that was intrigued by this handsome new computer guy. He carried a black briefcase, wore blue suits, and smelled like fresh laundry. Not sure why I remember the smell, but to this day “linen” is my candle-scent of choice.
It turned out that not only was he the new office hottie, he was a super nice guy. And by super nice, I mean SUPER NICE. He was what my mother would call “a catch” – if I was fishing for a man, that is. Which I was definitely not.
And yet, here we are. Twenty-three years later. And I still heat up when he looks at me that certain way or when he quietly reaches for my hand while we are watching TV. As you get older, it’s those little things that have the greatest impact.
I don’t know how to compare how we feel love, but I do know that it changes over time. When it’s new, there’s that giddy feeling. There’s romance and it’s kind of a show, right? Candlelit dinners. Love notes. And all those “firsts.” But love, mature love — the kind that lasts forever — shows itself in so many other ways.
What I love about my husband today has less to do with his still beautiful eyes.
The way he puts his hand on the small of my back
That he’s always there for his children
That he holds the door for me – every time
That he always puts the toilet seat down
The way he looked when he held our granddaughter for the first time
That he taught our son-in-law how to swaddle our granddaughter
That he smiles at me when he knows I’m nervous or uncomfortable
That he recognizes when “our song” is playing on the radio
That he still tries to sneak a peek when I’m getting dressed
The way he looks at his children when they share their life (oh, the pride oozes!)
That when I asked him why he thought he was here, on this earth, he said “For you.” (And he really means it).
That he can laugh at himself. At me. At us. At life. Without a sense of humor, we are lost. I love that my husband only allows a select few to know how funny he really is.
His quiet confidence.
His ability to be. To just “be.”
That he loves me. That’s the greatest gift of all.
Ya, we have a groovy kind of love. Looking forward to the next 23~