Laying in bed tonight I have found something serene and beautiful. He’s snoring beside me with his leg up against the back of my thing. Comfortable, insanely comfortable and irresistibly tired. He isn’t snoring loudly. It’s just enough to let you know it exsists. His body is warm and comforting. You can tell when a man is sleeping what kind of person they are by the way they hold themselves. They are unbelievably vulnerable like this, unable to be completely defensive. But he is trusting and comfortable. He is welcoming in the way his arms stretch out under his pillows. Seeing him like this reminds me of how much I love him. How much I treasure his kindness and passion. He truly is a man with a sincere heart, and I couldn’t have asked for a better man to call my husband.
And if I say that love is true and honest. If I say it is all things that make the world beautiful. I would be truthful. But in this I believe that love has its own self revealing truths. Love is sacrifice as well as receiving sacrifice from others. It requires you to hold your temper and to put their wants above your own. Unity and love only go hand in hand when these things are learned and relearned. You forget what you are as a singular being, only to remember yourself as a wholeness in which two have become one.
And there she was. In all the days that love had lost sight of any one soul, it had never lost hers. For she was of some other mystery, an angel I suppose. And no one knew what lay behind those eyes.