This man that I married makes me the most important thing in his life.
This man that I married loves his family and loves the life we’ve built together.
This man that I married is content to sit on the floor reading, playing, giggling with our daughter every evening.
This man that I married takes time to make our home safe and secure.
This man that I married takes time to make sure I am comfortable and happy in home that we share.
This man that I married teaches me and learns from me. He holds me tight and frees me. He lifts me up and keeps me grounded.
This man that I married encourages me, pushes me, and lets me slide.
This man that I married does little unexpected things for me, things I don’t have to request, but things that he knows I want. Things that make me smile.
This man that I married goes on adventures with me and goes to the grocery store with me. He juggles chores with me, and he takes me exploring.
This man that I married asks me questions and listens to my answers. He believes me, even when he knows I’m full of shit.
This man that I married makes me laugh, and I make him laugh. We laugh and laugh.
This man I married accepts my imperfections and I accept his. He shares his struggles with me, and I share mine with him. And we talk. We talk and talk.
This man I married is not perfect. We are not perfect. I am not perfect.
This man that I married touches me softly, and kisses me softly. He pulls me to him passionately and I wrap myself around him.
This man of mine lives life with me. And it’s beautiful and boring. It’s simple and hard. It’s fragile and unwavering. It’s messy. We’re messy together. And we love our life together.
I love this man I married.
For my husband on our 3rd wedding anniversary.
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