The sight of James standing at the door in his uniform,
his beret in hand,
this bouquet of flowers in the other,
his eyes so full and glistening with love ...
is an image that is forever burned into my memory!
How in the world did I get so lucky?
I never dreamed I would find Prince Charming,
and now there he is,
and he's coming home to little old me everyday.
A few days ago, before leaving for work,
James snuck these little sticky notes in surprising little places
all over the house. :)
There was one stuck on the bathroom mirror
that I saw the moment I stepped out of the shower.
Another waiting for me when I opened up my laptop,
another stuck to my favorite stuffed animal, Floppy.
(Yes, I still sleep with a stuffed animal)
They were in the closet, in my textbooks,
it was incredible.
The best one though ....
It takes my breath away
every time I open the vanity,
where it sticks to the middle shelf,
just a little yellow paper that I see
every time I'm brushing my teeth,
washing my face,
(you know, all kinds of unattractive things),
a note that always manages to surprise me,
"My wife is so beautiful."
Love that crazy solider .... sigh.
... who has CQ tonight. :(
So, he's been at work since 6:45am
and won't be home until tomorrow morning.
He does manage to escape for lunch
and, of course,
his wifey's dinner. ;)
(I made pesto baked tilapia and cheesy broccoli)
I will call and wish him goodnight
and then I'm off to count some sheeps!
I'm dusting off the Mizuno's,
tomorrow holds 12 miles of running.
Ohhh, marathon training!
"Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being "in love" which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossom had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two."-St. Augustine