Dear readers, single and wed alike,
Valentine's Day has recently passed, and so the topic of love has been much fashionable in the news and popular media of late. I retrospected on the state of wedlock and my felicitous meeting with the man that was to become my better half, and determined it worth our collective time to share my budding thoughts with you.
In the moment of our union in the presence of God and many witnesses, it seemed to me that we instantly became one. I never felt a moment of dissonance or timidity in his presence, and felt the bond of friendship and companionship that truly God Himself has ordained for the coupled man and woman. Love was, as they say, in the air, since we met through the flight school which we both attended. We were married in the spring of 2009 and it has not been yet a full year of wedlock for us. Embittered and disillusioned couples are quick to inform us that love does not last, but I do not give their dry words merit. New wine should not be poured into old skins; I have seen the deepness of love, intertwined with the love of God, grow only stronger with time. It is this pure and holy love of selflessness that I pursue, not a fleeting and self-satisfying passion.
Mr. H is indeed all I could have asked for in a husband. He is patient, which is a requisite counterweight to my impatience and headstrong manner. He is slow to anger and always forgiving, and in reciprocation I am learning to be myself more forbearing and less aggrieved.
Several days before Valentine’s Day, I lost my wedding ring. This was in my eyes a tragedy – not only was the ring valuable in monetary terms but it had a special sentimental value. Mr. H had chosen it for me, a quality increasing its significance in my eyes. It was a token of his love, but Mr. H wisely reminded me that it was just that – a token – and that in life things get lost. The true gift is the love that the ring represents!
The one place where we cannot yet reconcile our differences is a small matter of what pilots call OAT – Outside Air Temperature. He is always an oven, and I am always a refrigerator, so drives are punctuated by the continual rolling of windows up and down, and the heater blasting on and shutting off.
But this is minor in the grand scheme, and it is Mr. H’s precaution to anticipate and fill my every need that brings the warm glow of appreciation and love to my heart; he thoughtfully prepares me food when he knows I will be coming home hungry, cleans the house when I am busy with work and school, turns his movie down when he sees me take out my phone to make a call, buys me small gifts out of the blue.
I am continually learning new things about this man I call Mine. Most recently, I happily informed him that in order to keep our tub clean, I had put a scrub brush in there so that we can scrub the walls after a shower if it looks dirty. He looked surprised and said he was already scrubbing it after showers. I looked in the shower and saw only the bottles of soap and my body-scrub brush. The innocent look on his face told me what he had been using!
My lover is mine, and I am his; Happy Valentine’s Day. Did I mention that I found my ring today?
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