Prayer

When we pray in church, and I lean my head on your shoulder, you lean your head on mine.

You let me call "not it"

Quiet, empty night

I'm a work widow tonight again, but I know it's because you are a good man. You want to take care of us & that means keeping your job. And if doing a good job means you have to put in that extra time, then you do it. Anyone can do what's easy. You try to do what's right. You're my hero.

Signed, sealed, delivered

We signed the contract. Barring anything crazy, the house will be ours in July.

I was smiling and hugging you tonight, and you just looked at me and said, "I know."

Making a house a home

Today we put an offer on a house.

In 90 minutes, we saw the house and signed the papers. Exciting and terrifying. Now we wait for a reply.

You continue to hold my kite string.

This could be the house where we raise our family. Thank you for letting me imagine that with you.

Full plates

The past few weeks have been rough. Physically and personally. For both of us. And our time together on a daily basis has dwindled to almost zero.

But the communication hasn't stopped. You know the perfect moments to send an encouraging text, or when a phone call is needed. You are there to listen - always - even with a million things on your plate (& none of them edible.)

Less than two weeks, and I will be holding hands with you, praying we can avoid seasickness together!

Next to Jeff, Next to Normal

It's been too long since my last post, but I swear I think of things to post a hundred times a day.

Tonight you were my theatre date.  You let me show you why I love the modern American musical.  You let me cry on your arm.  I wasn't going to make you go because I know it's not your thing, but you insisted because you knew it was important to me.

I know things are getting crazy already with the house hunting, but I've already got my home.