A Little Thing Called Love

I had to scrape the ice off of my own windshield yesterday.  I haven’t had to do that in years.  Not because I am not capable, but because I am married to a man who always does it for me.  When I say always, I mean always.  I have a garage now so it isn’t as much of an issue, but in the past, if my husband was in a mile radius of me, he took care of it.  At times he even got up to scrape my window, even if I left the house before him (even after an all night shift).  Not only did he take care of me, but my mother and sisters windows were also always scraped if they were in his presence.  He’s a good guy like that.

As I was scraping my window I was thinking of him, missing him, and I realized something.  I have learned so much about the language of love from the great man I call my husband.

You see, when he scrapes my windows for me, what he is really saying is, “I love you.”

He says, “I love you,” every time I come home to a clean house, or a nicely manicured yard.  He’s telling me, “I really love you,” when he watches the kids and sends me to the open hot tub, jets on, glass of wine..with my book.

He tells me that I matter when he cooks my favorite dinner, or leaves me breakfast when our paths don’t quite pass.  He tells me that I am important when he asks about my day, or checks in on how I am doing when he knows it’s just me and the kids.

When he watches the musical  movie from 1986, I know I am important, or when he finds a place for those silly old encyclopedias from 1964, teasing me only a little, I know he will love me forever.

See love, is often disguised very much as every day life.

Love is asking yourself, what can I do today to make life a little easier or better.  Love is in the small acts, the every day commitments.

As I scrape the ice off my window today I think, “Thanks Hon, you wise old soul you, I love you too!”