Monday, 4 April 2011

Entitled: A Love Letter

The 30 minutes before you arrive home is always the longest part of the day.

I hear your noisy truck (we need to get that fixed) come around the corner and pull in to the driveway.

I stand up a little straighter.

In the few minutes that it takes for you to get to the door (the bin needs to be taken out) I am frozen.  I am unsure as to what to do with myself while I wait.

The sucking and whooshing sound that the opening of the door makes will forever make my heart beat a little faster, help my body relax and inject just that bit more energy that I've been craving all day.

That door opening is a sign for LQ, too.  Her little body leaps from whatever position she is in.  She flies to the door.  "DADDY"!

Her excitement is just a snippet of how I feel about your homecoming, but I play it cool.

LQ gets cuddles and I get the same sort of kiss I got from you when we were dating.

I know you love me.

I hope that you know how much I love you.  I hope that the waiting dinner shows that I love you.  I hope that the made bed shows that I love you.  I hope that my face shows how much I love you.

I  hope my entire life shows that I love you beyond any words on a silly blog post could ever convey and how much I love having you all to myself each evening (usually).