My best friend.
My favorite companion.
My date.
My other half.
My non-judgmental listener.
The soft touches while passing in the kitchen.
The private discussions while one of us was in the shower because that was the only place we could talk without little ears listening.
The person who explained the movies to me because I either didn’t get it or dozed off. Sometimes he’d just say, “You know, I’m watching the same movie as you…”
The one I would ask if I should get bangs every time we watched New Girl.
The one who always took seriously when I asked which outfit was better for where we were going. I’d give him the options and he’d choose. Sometimes he’d say “Are you asking me so you can wear the opposite?”
The one who zipped up my dresses and fastened my bracelets.
The one who opened my car door and treated me like a lady.
The one who never judged me on my thoughts or opinions. Never argued with me even when I was being outrageous or obviously wrong. He just listened and knew me hearing my own words out loud would help me realize I was being outrageous or obviously wrong.
The one who I said all of my words to, words I don’t say now, because there is no one to say them to.
The one who, after closing my book, I whispered “I love you” to every night, even though he was already asleep, for almost twenty five years.
The one who was exactly like me and exactly opposite me at the same time, making great conversation.
The one who breathed funny when he slept and I hated it like crazy, but loved it because it meant he was home beside me.
The one who kept the other half of all of my memories.
The one who remembered which wine I like and why I like it and where I drank it last.
The one who made me laugh and laugh and laugh.
The one who could talk so reasonably with the kids when I’d lose my patience.
The one who would tell me not to worry about whatever I was worrying about.
The one who loved me no matter what for the rest of his life.
Photo cred: Maggie
