while happily moving through the hall way, he came in from the garage and eagerly announced, "i brought your little black box down".
i stopped. i turned. i know i had this giddy smile that landed across my face...and there it was....
my little black box
my little black box contains everything, from the moment we first met until it got placed accidentally in the attic. since, i had 2 shoe boxes in my closet that have been serving the purpose. sure, i could've went to the attic...but its really high up there. you have to climb a ladder thingy. and it could be possibly be creepy. so this was def a job for sweet hubbs.
i quickly take the box and run to the kitchen island, where i frantically start pulling stuff out. ive looked in this box a trillion times, but each time, its like the first and my body falls warm and tingly, all over again.
i see the faxes he used to send over to my office, saying how wonderful the last three [which refers to our first 3 weeks] weeks had been.
notes telling me not to eat dinner, as he was bringing it to me.
the score card to our first bowling adventure. what a fabulous time.
pictures of our first valentine's day together, where i was flown on a surprise romantic weekend getaway.
then there were the cards from the flowers, he'd send me on business trips, telling me how much he missed me & to hurry home to him.
random balloons he would have hung on a chair in the house.
rose petals in zip lock bags, w/ the dates he had spread them.
sweet love post-it notes, he would place @ various times on the bathroom mirror, my car, my closet.....
random scavenger hunts we would had. the one with the non-setup jello-o, was classic.
this box is amazing. its filled with so much love. so much emotion.
i have such a brilliant husband. in my emotional-scatterbrained-non-stop world, i worry that i fail at being the best i can be, as i am a very, very, extremely very lucky girl.
when i explore this box. i see the obvious. i am loved, unconditionally. flawlessly. deeply. perfectly.
& i feel guilty for every saying anything about the shoes he leaves in the living room, the clothes he leaves scattered on the bathroom floor, or even the silly little messes he makes in the kitchen. that's the worse he does. i feel guilty for not dividing my time appropriately, when i am his world & he is there for me, whenever. wherever. i feel selfish for asking for his advice, then sometimes going my own way. i feel ridiculous for going spastic-and-getting-all-worked-up over something, that he said all along, "would be ok."
he is really amazing.
my life is simple. he only asks that i love him. im so lucky i can. and forever, i will.
i am a very, very, extremely very lucky girl.
strolling through centennial olympic park - valentine's day 2009
it was here, our first "i love you" was said
over 8 years ago.