There are million different qualities about Jarod that still make me swoon and sends me over the moon when I think about him. Tears of joy can, literally, fall from these grateful, brown eyes when I think about how much I have because I have him in my life. He’s given me the courage and strength to believe that it’s possible for someone to love me. Through all my failures, misgivings and annoying, indifferent quirks, I can always feel the grasp of his desire for me.
We’ve gone through a lot. Even with the knowledge of the undeniable strength my children would gain from going through what we have, I hope with everything inside of me that they experience less than a small fraction of what we‘ve gone through. We have been broken by life and by each other; yet, his hand seems to always find mine when my knees tremble, my voice quivers uncontrollably and I feel as if there is no more of me to go on.
I love him. And I’m thankful to have a man such as him love me back.
But yet, I get so annoyed at his quirks and shortcomings. I hate that he instinctively believes that buying the top-of-the-line, most expensive item in any genre, or matter, is a necessity. It annoys me that his socks always fold inside-out when I go to load them in the laundry (even when I‘ve asked him countless times not to). I hate how he never cleans up the mess he makes in the kitchen and how his dirty clothes always seem to linger right where he last undressed. All of these “problems” are, without a doubt, minor in view of what really matters in life.
When I see my life and the course of it’s existence, even more than I see our beautiful children and our future gorgeous grandchildren, I see him. I see my Jj. I see my hand cradled lovingly and delicately by the hand of my best friend.
I’ve recently realized (especially with our wonderful array of arguments lately) that I need to remember, really remember, what really matters in life. I need to quit magnifying such small matters and remember what I see down the line and who I want to see fifty years from now. I need to force myself to take a step back and see the bigger picture. I need to remember whose hand I want to be holding many years from now and instead of getting exceptionally upset, I need to find a different release.
I need to breathe, square my shoulders, visualize the love of my life, recline my wrist a tad and most importantly, follow-through . . . while I watch those damn dirty socks still turned inside-out hit him square in the middle of his baby blue eyes.
(insert happily smiling and visualizing this resolution here).
Yes, this is a wonderful solution: less anger from me and more throwing of dirty still turned inside-out socks at him.
Yes, I believe I have definitely found a solution. Anniversary Year 50, here we come!!
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