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The big displays of love are nice. A surprise dinner date. The big ring or watch or insert your favorite piece of jewelry here. A trip, a present, a surprise.
But they can’t beat the small ways John Brownstone loves me.
The kiss while standing in front the freezer, ice melting in my hand.
Telling me to stay still, read my book, let him take care of things.
The willingness to huff and puff in the Florida summer heat for our evening walk. In the name of health, longevity, and time together.
Saying no when I want something that I’ll only feel guilty about later.
Saying yes when I’ve gone so long without a taste or a sip of thing.
Cheering me on through small signs of progress (damn those 0.6 pounds).
Getting angry on my behalf when someone’s ridiculous and unyielding.
Reminding me to calm down, take my own advice, breathe, and don’t say anything I’ll regret later.
Rubbing my shoulders when I spend a long day with my fingers on a keyboard.
Forcing me up to go get a coffee in the name of a break from work, but mostly because he misses me.
It’s the way he sighs a little and then agrees whenever I say, “I have a new idea…”
The dinner he cooks every night, the dishes he washes every day, the laundry he folds every weekend. Even when my socks or shirts end up in a random place, and I tease him about it.
It’s all love. A real love that can’t be faked or forged. It’s the kind you express and the kind you feel in the daily blending of two lives into one.
He’s my best friend, my greatest supporter, the one who pushes me when I’m afraid, and pulls me back when I go too far. He’s the only person I’ll allow to lead me anywhere, and the only person besides me who’s allowed to be The Decider™ in my life. Why? Because he’s earned it and because every day, in small ways, he makes sure I never doubt his love.