Hey, Bess -

Hey Bess,
Just so you know - i'm not afraid of working hard - or of looking foolish, a little too adoring, a little too grateful- when it comes to our love.
i'm not about measuring it in cups or gallons, carefully levelling off the tops with a butter knife before greedily pouring each hoarded, recorded molecule into an airtight storage container.
No.
Ours is more of a generous type of love - lavishly pouring and overflowing. Enough to give and take... Never measured, hoarded or stored.
The currency of our love spent, brings unreasonable, unfathomable returns.
And even in the dry...
even in the solitary...
even in the cheap, careless, vulnerable....
When seasons of less, seasons of tired, seasons of 'not the same' hit...
i want you to know - that what you've got is enough. Who you are is adequate.
Our stumbling, drunken miscalculations didn't cost us too dearly.
You can't lose me.
In this season of more - i see with clarity. The sands of our love cover a beach as far as my eyes can reach - and if i scoop up a handful, and let it run through my fingers - it's warmth brings light and life to my very bones.
************************************
My hands leave the keyboard just as my husband's long legs bring him through the back door.
"Babe, you gotta come read this..." i say, feeling a bubbling hilarity begin to rise in my stomach.
He sits in the chair and his hazel eyes trail the words on the screen.
"Ohhhh noooo..." (hands over head...)
Bubbling, bursting laughter.
He squirms. Neither understanding, nor appreciating my declaration of adoration.
& that's ok too...
Sometimes even tho the love part is for him...?
The declaration part is for me.