I wasn’t sure what to say. I laid staring at this man I’d chosen and wanted to express everything I felt with words. I wanted to tell him how I loved the way his hand fit in the small of my back and how sometimes he would close his giant hand over mine and kiss my knuckles. Maybe I could share how irresistible he was when he would kiss the tiny clips or barrettes I wore in my hair because he said they were so cute.
Perhaps I could make him understand how my insides felt when he broke into a full-blown smile. Or how I adored the way his voice lifted ever so slightly with anticipation when he answered the phone if I called him at work.
I thought about how to make him understand the depth of my love – how I knew he was chosen for me. I listened to his steady breathing and realized even that brought me comfort.
Perhaps if I told him he was my best friend. But I’d claimed Mary Ann and Allison for years to fill that cherished role. The way I loved this man was even more than the role of a best friend. He was my partner, my lover, my shoulder, my heart.
I wiggled across the sheets close enough to breathe him in. I walked my fingers up his chest and traced his lips. With no grand poem or collection of words, I said all that was in my soul.
“You’re my favorite person,” I sighed.
“And you are mine,” he whispered as we drifted off to sleep.
I am my lover’s and my lover is mine. Song of Solomon 6:3 NIV
Happy 13th Anniversary, Alan!