Please Share It
I thought this being Valentine's Day, I would write you a deeply private, personal, romantic, thoughtful, appreciative letter to tell you exactly how much you mean to me and have meant to me all these years...
...And then post it on my blog!
Look at us up there, way back when. Do you realize that tomorrow, The Big Brother will be the exact same age as I am in that picture? How's that for freaky? 22 years old. And you were just 26. Gah, we were totally kids!
By the time we got to our oh-so-romantic first Valentine's Day together, I went to dinner with my mother, because you had to go to work. I decided to finish the night by going into the worst labor God ever created. 18 hours and one bucket of fried chicken later, we had a new baby boy and Valentine's Day had been totally forgotten. LOL The first of many we've forgotten over the years. (I still claim that ridiculously huge piece of triple chocolate cake I had to have triggered The Big Brother's arrival. The size of it squished him out.)
In the ensuing years, we have forgone many a romantic Valentine's Days to focus on The Big Brother's birthday on the following day.
We've spent it taking care of some relative. Remember when my grandfather asked you to check and see if he had broken his butt?
We've spent it flat-broke, like the one where we "romantically" made steak fries for dinner out of potatoes you brought home from the dock, because that's all we had left before payday. LOL
We've spent Valentine's Days at batting practices, basketball games, and volleyball matches.
We've even remembered to get gifts occasionally, like the Kindle I got you last year! (Go, me!)
But, here's the real deal:
When I see your face there, I don't see the gray on your chin or the lines around your eyes. I still see the face of the guy up there in the first picture.
- The guy who has made me laugh so hard that coffee comes out my nose.
- The guy who willingly changed out of his fancy dress shoes into tennis shoes on our very first date, because I had finally found an historic property I'd been researching and had to climb up a huge river embankment to see it right away - and yet still called for a second date.
- The guy who took a million tries at retuning his guitar to play me The Rain Song.
- The guy who has explained to countless nurses that I am abnormally phobic of needles and doesn't let anyone at me who doesn't get it.
- The guy who took care of my grandfather with me until we couldn't keep him at home anymore, but never complained.
- The guy who worked seven nights a week for the first three years we were married, but still would get up with a baby for a feeding.
- The guy who has risen from a 3rd shift dock worker to corporate department head in a nationwide company by being smart, dependable, hard-working, honest, and never thinking a job was beneath him.
You balance my temper, think I can do anything, laugh at my jokes, tramp through thrift stores, pretend you don't see when I actually give in to tears, have cleaned up my sick, torn down walls on my whim, listened to my rants, cared for my grandfather, dealt with my crazy mother, took in my father, and given me the three brightest joys of my life.
Some women may think the hottie in the latest flick is the best thing since sliced bread. Or that the the paycheck makes the man. Some women are stupid. But, I'm not. I know what I've got.
The perfect man.
So, for the 23rd time, I only have one question for you.
I love you, babe. I'll never, ever take that for granted.