The Power of You

The table set for dinner only just for one
Staring at your empty chair
Remembering all of the crazy laughs we shared
Last time you were sitting there

I can hear your voice still calling out my name
And smell your scent upon the pillow next to me
Imagining your kisses when I close my eyes
They don’t replace you holding me

Our house is not a home when I’m here alone
You turn my darkness to light
And you make everything all right

– Lyrics by Kelly Rowland


Scents have an uncanny ability to trigger memories.

I wonder if you know the power of your scent on my pillow.

Your Inner Child

Honestly, you act just like a ten-year-old boy sometimes. (Thinking about “shoes” as I write this.)

If you are at all familiar with the qualities of a ten-year-old (and I know you are), you know that words like “brat” come to mind immediately. On one hand, there is still a sweet boyishness, with their tousled hair, freckled faces and sweet baby cheeks. On the other hand, their eyes are usually gleaming with orneriness, and an impish grin resides permanently between those baby cheeks. Oh, the language that erupts from those innocent little mouths during those years. Everything from insults to swear words comes flying out at least once, and then, ever so carefully the limits are tested. How much back-talk will mom, dad, or a teacher put up with before the boundaries are slammed down with gale force? It’s like the secret pact of every ten-year-old to annoy and frustrate their siblings to tears, to antagonize and goad their parents to the point of explosion and to just flat-out wear everybody out with their annoying antics.

I see a boyishness in you, my darling husband, at some of the oddest moments. I have a personal window into your soul that no other person on earth has. You can make me want to kiss your sweet cheeks one moment and tempt me to slap them hard the very next. ツ

I love to see the inner child so plainly in you, just one more thing to love about you.


I love you for the man you are, I love you for the things you do and I love you for the things you say. But most of all I love you because you love me for the woman I am, for the things I do and for the things I say.

He Loves Me

My husband, the man I chose. You were single, close to being awarded confirmed batchelor status, but after all those years of being a single man, you chose me.

There is nothing that binds us together outside of ourselves and our choice to be with one another. You have promised to love me for the rest of your life. That is a super powerful feeling. Knowing that I am loved makes all the difference in the world to me. Life is hard and relationships are hard work: why bother at all, if there isn’t love?

How do I know you love me? Well, that would be a post for another day, but suffice it to say, you declare your love to me in a myriad of ways. It’s definitely not like the old farmer’s wife joke. In “Fiddler on the Roof” the wife asks her husband one day if he loves her. The old farmer bellows, “Woman, I told you once on the day we got married, and if it ever changes I’ll let you know!”

I sometimes take for granted the ways you express your love for me, often through good deeds or provision of material needs, sometimes those ways are too subtle, sometimes I need bluntness. But no matter how you say it or show it, I always know that you love me … I can feel it in my heart. And, I love you.

You’re Not Here

You’re not here. These walls feel too close and this house seems too empty. Everything feels wrong.

Later I will listen for your car door, your keys, your feet on the mat. I’ll pace the floor, hoping that every approaching car is yours, coming to take me in your arms and tell me that you’ve come home. 


Would you mind if I sat a while with you? No words. No fuss. I just want to sit beside you and take “us” in.

Lost In You

Just give me a minute to get used to how amazing you feel … to soak in this moment and breathe in your space.

The past months have passed like an eternity; so don’t move an inch while I memorize your body once again. Over. Under. Around.

Forget the clock for our little while and let this moment be ours. Look into my eyes for one more second. Just long enough for me to get lost in you.

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    June 2010
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