He steps in when I’m being stepped on.
It’s not the most glamorous thing to say about your spouse, but I’m not really into glamorous love these days.
Sure, I remember when he showed up at my apartment door with roses just because. I remember when we did . . . married things all day Saturday. I remember when he left me love notes in the morning.
Those things were nice, those things were wonderful and a part of our love’s rhythm.
But right now, in the parenting little people trenches, the thing I appreciate most about my husband is how he steps in when I’m being stepped on.
It’s how he doesn’t even give me a choice and says, “I’m picking up take-out,” on a day my nerves are frayed.
It’s how he says, “Go upstairs and get work in, I’ll take the kids” on the days I have no time to myself.
It’s how he empties the dishwasher at night, so I’m not faced with a menial task to start my day.
It’s how he does the quiet work of taking the weight off my shoulders and strapping it on his own even though he doesn’t have to.
The soundtrack of our love has changed over time. The songs are sometimes fast and cheery, swoon-worthy and romantic and right now slow and steady. But the music hasn’t stopped. I love the current song we are playing together.
It’s the pouring out of ourselves for our little people and for each other. It’s the quiet retreat we find lying side by side when night falls. It’s being both exhausted and thankful for this life we get to live together.
And it’s him stepping in when I am being stepped on.
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