I love to watch him sleep. He is so beautiful in repose. I look at the character that remains in his face even as he dreams. I love how broad his shoulders are; how easily he shoulders burdens with them–both his own and those he willingly, even eagerly takes from me. I like that his body is soft and comfortable to curl up against. I love the whimsy that lead him to get a barrel of monkeys tattoo.

I love that he can forgive me anything. I love that he will do anything for his friends, even as that same habit drives me crazy sometimes. I love how completely he gives himself over to lusting after me. I love that he embraces the changes in my body as beautiful in recognition of the life we created together. I love that he tolerates my mood swings and often difficult temper. He gives of himself more freely and openly than any person I have ever known. I love how he loves me with the open eyed glee of a child being given the best toy in the world.

What I am thankful for is that he was willing to humble his pride and ask me for a second chance when I was too afraid to ask him. I am thankful for the gift of him in my life. It is a rare day when a fight is bad enough to cause me worry about whether this will really work out. Even in those moments I am still grateful he asked for the chance.