I Remember

I remember sitting in a pew and watching you with longing eyes as you took a seat in front of me. You moved with confidence and pose that was so very attractive. Your hair was summer blond from summer activity, adorning your slight frame asking to be played with. I remember thinking I ought to approach you. I mustered up a reserve of attitude and forced myself forward. You looked at me as I stammered a confusing, “can you scoot over?” From there, it was a smilefest. I could not stop smiling as we flirted, taunted and jousted our way through ridiculous conversation. It’s about intent, not content, right? Well, with every easy laugh you delivered a measure of confidence I have never felt before. I let myself go; it was easy to be me with you. Comfortable. You were to my self confidence like a renewal of self when self wasn’t questioned, just assumed as wonderful. This time of self assuredness is had for most functional children from birth to about five or six. I was five again and prancing about, showing off my charm, willing to believe that I could not go wrong. You smiled, you laughed. You teased and prodded. I felt the slow, slinking feeling of a willing heart being hijacked. It really did feel like a hijacking. Well, actually, I have no idea if that is true, but it definitely feels like control of emotion was transferred; that wonderfully scary initial stage of love when nothing is known and all is hoped for. The next couple of weeks, we nary missed a night of kidding, cuddling, inquiry and discovery. I remember thinking I was playing it cool, keeping kissing out of our daily content. I was wrong, and loved you for showing me so when you sent a machine gun spattering of questions at me.
“So Dan, what’s the deal? Am I like a sister to you? Are you gay? Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”
The honesty in this approach was so refreshing. This girl wants me to kiss, well, okay, I want to kiss her. There was never much of a guessing game with you.

Through our courtship and almost seven years of marriage, this transparency has enabled our relationship and understanding of our love to master change, change and more change, through communication of thought, feeling and desire. To love is to show, in the act is to know. I know you love me, because you give up the “me” in you as you give of yourself to me, you know what I mean? To say why I love you is actually to define how you show me your love.
You care for my thoughts. You show this with your piercing eyed inquiries, seeking me to relay and expound the detail of my day, my passions and dreams, ideas and esteems.
You care for my comfort, shown as you magnify your expertise in the monotony that is domestic engineering. It has joys I know, but paramount in your day is service to me and soon to be, our little ones, three.
You care for my ego; ergo you carefully construct your loving compliments that can tend to deny what reality replies.
You care for my joy, shown by sending me free on dangerous days of rivers raging, or staging serendipitous delights of activities in spite of personal desire.
You care for my Soul, through careful reminders to remember our Savior in saving our souls from the tolls of our trials and sins.

I love you Aleena, I hope I can show you so.