I was sixteen when that boy-man became a close, trusted friend.
I was eighteen when I started to fall.
I was twenty-one when I promised forever.
Twelve years later and we are still holding on to each other. Still loving one another.
Somedays its the overwhelming emotion of love that we ride and others . . . well, others it's a choice.
Nothing in life is always a hundred percent easy.
Does he know? Do I let him know it enough, all the small ways that I love him?
Does he know?
All those years ago, when we became fast friends, I respected him immensely. Trust and respect were established on that mile long walk of friendship.
My heart always felt like it was going to explode in those early days of falling whenever I heard his voice or saw him with that blue baseball cap on.
I can still feel the crisp winter nights air and hear those fireworks from the night he asked me to be his wife.
I feel blessed because I get to see him when he is sweetly asleep with those dark lashes of his laying still on his face.
My heart melts when I see with my memories eye him holding our three girls shortly after birth. Do they know how lucky they are to have a daddy like him?
Does he know how I hope and earnestly pray, each time he leaves us for the sky, that he is returned home safely to us?
Does he know that I call him when he's on a trip not because I have anything to tell him but just because I want to talk to him? That I need to hear his voice?
Does he realize how much more I panic when I can't get ahold of him now then I did 14 months ago?
The course of our lives have changed. It has changed him. It has changed me. I know this. We are still holding on. Still choosing to love each other with each unexpected, hard blow.
Does he know that he even now, I would still choose him? I would do it all over again . . . with him?