Too short, too heavy, too wrinkly, and almost too old.

This is the woman that my wife would have you believe I am married to.

I, on the other hand, know better. The woman I am married to has grown older. Well, it’s bound to happen after 17 years. But in those 17 years I’ve known my wife, she’s become more.

More loving, more patient, more confident, and, yes, dare I say, more attractive. Not in spite of time, but because of it. Come to think of it, many of these “more’s” (if that’s a word), have happened in spite of ME.

As I sit here writing this, I’m reminded of where we’ve been and what we’ve experienced. I’m also aware of what our love is capable of producing. For instance, the curly-haired six-year-old sitting next to me who keeps asking, “What are you writing? Can I read it? Why are you writing?”

My wife thinks I only say this because it’s my “job.” To some extent, she IS right, it is my job. It is my job to love her, to hold her, to encourage her, and cheer her on. It IS my job to love, honor, and cherish. It is exactly why I wanted the job when I said, “I do.”

I wanted to be the one to tell her, “You are so beautiful, so kind, so caring.”

My husband, October 2005, as written in our really cute little blank books that sit on our bedside table…

marriage