13 years and 5 kids later, your face is still the one I seek.
When you walk into a room, my heart leaps. I couldn't stop loving you if I tried. And I have tried.
You are woven into the deepest threads of my being. If I lost you, the very fabric of myself would tear apart. I've loved you since I was 18---I've grown up with you, into you, out of you. Without you, I would be a stranger to myself.
You are quiet, unassuming, steady, loyal. You love me with deeds, not words. You work hard, provide for your children, fix stuff, make things work better, get things done.
You've always been better at accepting people for who they are, warts and all. I, on the other hand, am less...forgiving. Please forgive me?
I love you with words. I pour out my love on paper, bathe you in letters, notes, texts, voicemails, emails.
I even write about you on my blog---the final indignity, right?
I can't help it. I love you. I adore you. I have to write about it. I'm going to be loving you with words for the rest of my life. But you already knew that.
So, why didn't read the FIVE love-letters I packed in your suitcase? OK, so five was overkill. I could have dialed it back a bit. But could you have read just ONE?
Like this one? "I need you like the ocean needs the sky to give it color." That was it. Short, sweet. And a darn fine simile, too.
Oh, well. Lots more where that came from.
So, here it is, your worst nightmare. Me writing about you on my blog. And me SHOUTING ON MY BLOG:
I LOVE YOU MATT! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU!