I love Sundays. But sometimes I love Saturday evenings even more. Because once in a while on a Saturday evening, I will realize that it is in fact Saturday and not Sunday. This just used to mean I would be happy about having more weekend to enjoy, but it has become more specific than that. My husband works six days a week, so when I realize it’s only Saturday evening, my heart swells with joy that tomorrow my husband will be home all day.
I fell in love with his smile. We met through a mutual friend, and throughout our conversation that day, I was so drawn to his smile, which is one of those special smiles that begins with smiling eyes. This man is a smart, reliable, funny guy with just enough quirk to be with me (I’m a bit of an odd duck sometimes, I’ll admit).
When we were first dating, I would drive two hours to visit him. We had a favorite sushi place, and during one dinner he was a little fidgety. When we were getting ready to leave, he presented me with a ring he had fashioned out of his chopsticks wrapper because I had said offhandedly when I arrived that I’d forgotten the ring I usually wore at home. I still have that paper ring, in fact it was the one he proposed with (he wanted to let me choose the “real” ring).
He likes to bring me flowers, most frequently the “just because” kind. Before we were married, he had a paper route (the same one his father had for many years; it was essentially passed on to him) and he would often pick roadside flowers for me, and they would be the first thing I saw when I woke up.
And when our boys were each born, seeing them bundled safely in his arms was just what my exhausted mama heart needed to round out all the crazy hormones and emotions cascading through me.
So here’s to my husband, the man who holds my heart.