Love, true love...

I’m married. My wife’s name is Michelle. I’ve loved her over half my life. We met in junior high, dated our senior year in high school, and got married as soon as I graduated college. She’s always been there for me. Through everything. Through my craziness. Through infants, moves across country, job changes, struggles of faith. She’s been there. Recently we hit a rough patch. One of those things you go through after almost 13 years of marriage. I’m good at making it seem like it’s just as much her fault. And she’s good at calling me on that. But we both know it’s mostly me. I’m a self-centered, egotistical jerk (my words, not hers). I often care far too much about what I want, need, expect. And far less about her. And yet she still loves me.

I love her too. I love her to a depth I guess I didn’t fully realize until recently. I cannot imagine my earthly existence without her. I can’t remember life before her. I don’t want to even try to imagine life after her. She is me. I am hers. Love. Complete. Whole. Encompassing. Crazy. Frustrating. Bewildering. Beautiful. That’s how I think of our life together.

I’m away from her and our boys right now. I’ll be gone more than I’m home for the next 3-4 weeks. And I miss her. I miss her smiling eyes. I miss her “what are you looking at” look when I gaze at her. I miss having dinner with her and the boys as family. I miss her. Marriage is an amazing thing. We both take our vows seriously. We committed to each other. We’re to be there thru thick and thin. Sickness and health. Good times and bad. We chose to love each other, forever. That is a choice we made once. Once for all. And I love…

I love you ‘Shell. I’ll be home soon…