It could be something so simple

I have this picture as the background on my phone. It is of white boy giving his famous smirk. Mirrored, aviator glasses looking so chic. And I think, "What is it about this guy that makes him so special?"

I immediately think of his hands...so strong and calloused, a true testament to his strong and dedicated work ethic. I think of his eyes...so blue they blend in with the clear summer sky. I think of his smile...so genuine you can't replicate it. I think of his outlook on life...so mended it is pure.

In a sense, I think of many things when I look at a picture of him or even think of him. He is truly a good person. And he is mine. I don't consider myself to be a defensive or territorial person, by nature, but I know one thing...this man is mine. Granted, he alone belongs to God, but I get him next, and I have only felt that about one other being and that was my dog.

Often, J and I will talk about belonging to each other...a sense of personal entitlement of our physical selves to the other. He says I belong to him, body and soul, and he belongs to me, a thought often looked down upon in our society. But, I believe that we do belong to each other, and even more so 107 days from now when we pledge ourselves to each other before God and man.

This notion of what is so special about this man could be something so simple. But I can't believe that. His intricacies are intertwined with mine. His breaths are devoted to mine. His life is now destined to be pledged to me...and all of mine to him. The simple takes on a deeper meaning. You want to know what is simple? He loves me. He LOVES me. He...loves...me. Hands down...me. No questions. And I him.

Is love really that simple? Perhaps. Perhaps it is. Just maybe love, in its purest form, really is that simple. He told me once when I said love wasn't enough, "It is. I swear it is." I think I believe him. I think it could be just that simple.

Comments

Tiger must stay in your backpack...

I'm not that parent. The one who gloats too much, and shows off all the pictures. The parent who relays every detail of their kid to let others know how incredible I think they are. Perhaps it is a flaw. Who knows. And I also pride myself in not being a helicopter parent. I teach and let go. I discipline and let go. And I thought I would be ready for this: first day of Pre-K. I have been very positive and uplifting and have wanted my son to be extra ready to go to school. We have talked about it for months! I am ready... Or so I thought. This morning, as white boy was leaving to take them to daycare, he said to Owen, "You can't take Tiger to school tomorrow or he will have to stay in your backpack, so do you want to take him to daycare today?" I thought little of it, but as Owen threw him down on the ground and turned to head out the door, my throat hitched. "Are you sure you don't want to take him today?" He said no. It was a sense of finality. ...

A goodbye love letter to you...

I sat across from my dad at lunch, yesterday, and asked him, "Do you know what tomorrow is?" He said, "Yeah. 1 year." And his eyes grew damp. "I'll never forget walking into that room..." He didn't continue. I didn't ask him to. "I'll never forget the police officer banging on my door at 1130 at night..." I didn't continue. He didn't ask me to. "This journal was given to me several years ago by my children. I know they wanted me to write down my thoughts to get through the rough times I was going through at the time. I did not start this at that time. Why am I starting it now? Well, I only thought I had been through hell back then, but now I realize I didn't have any idea what heartache was until Aug 15, 2010 -" This is the beginning of one of my mother's journals. A journal she started a little over a month after Andy died. And she wrote it--to him. "Dear Mother - Today is the day before Mothe...

Beneath the Weeping Willow

"The willow submits to the wind and prospers until one day it is many willows—a wall against the wind. This is the willow's purpose." — Frank Herbert, Dune Time, although a very evasive concept, is in each moment a gift. And most often, I don't stop to look back at the road I have traveled on. Even more so, the road Justin and I have travelled together. But today it is warranted. Today marks 9 years as husband and wife, and 9 years of truly some amazing and adverse moments. We have lost the most cherished and birthed the most loved all the while interwoven with each other. I will be the first to admit that our day to day appears to some: mundane. However, inside the ordinary he and I together have understood the profundity of love. It is brash and loud, but it is also cautious and quiet. "Love is a many splendored thing." It is the true basis of community, and I am proud of the community we have built. The willow is the t...

"Getting older's not been on my plans"

Search This Blog