I bought it to match one of my necklaces. Since I’ve started budgeting, I’ll buy the charms for us later as a reward.
I love to treat him.
I love to treat him well.
To say that I’m the perfect or even a great wife is an overstatement some days (maybe most days. I am learning how to love the right way.) But I do try. And he knows what and who he signed up for.
We always make it work. We usually make it work better than before.
It breaks my heart when I drop him off at work every day. 6 am- 2pm Thursday thru Monday. I don’t have to go to work anymore. (I work mondays but it hardly counts and it’s only for a little longer.) I get to work from home. The only part that hurts me is that he doesn’t. Clocking in for a third of your life is soul crushing and I don’t want him to be crushed.
But we have a plan in order so it shouldn’t be long.
(He never complains about needing to provide for us. I can’t imagine.)
Soon he’ll be running the restaurants with no fixed schedule. Nowhere he has to be for 8 hours a day. He will have responsibilities and he’ll have to work but in a much more liberating sense.
He’ll make more money and have more time to himself. He’ll be respected and he will have authority.
I can’t wait to see how this changes him.
But even then, it isn’t enough.
I want him to do what he loves.
What he loves.
He loves his bonsai trees and art and craft.
I get to do what I love. It’s hard to celebrate freeing myself from something he has to do every day.
It’s bitter sweet.
It’s a work in progress.
Someday soon, my love, we will wake up with the baby and have our days belong completely to us.
I want to give him the world but that isn’t my place.
It isn’t my place to rob him of this feeling of accomplishment.
I wish I could do it all.
But until then, a gold necklace to show him my gratitude will have to do.
Oh, Loren. Thank you for being you.
Looking back on all that we’ve been through, together or not, can you believe where we are now? Here now? Being here now?
Infidelity seems petty and irrelevant. I can’t imagine wanting someone else to touch my body (only to leave me unfulfilled because they aren’t you.)
You know every touch, space, inch, hair of my body. You know mostly every crevice of my soul.
Somehow you still mesmerize me. Somehow you’re still a mystery.
How intriguing, how enticing.
Forever isn’t long enough.
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve fallen in love with you.
Of all the people places and things we’ve been, being yours is my favorite.