Every day ends the same.
No matter what has happened in my day (or his), when the sun's gone down we end up there. He welcomes my legs in his lap, my head on his chest or only my presence close enough to touch if he wants to. Or not.
I can air my gripes, my concerns, my irrational thoughts, without worrying about saying the wrong thing. I might doze as he watches television or comb my fingers through his hair as he sleeps in my lap. I may talk a mile a minute, barely able to get it all out and he listens and smiles as if he actually enjoys it. Or I can sit, saying nothing at all, lost in my own thought or someone else's as I read e-mails and blogs. It doesn't matter.
At the end of every day, he'll be there.
With a place for me.
And no expectations.
Letting me be who I am.
Ending every day with a sigh.
The Sanctuary of Christian Marriage
Marriage: For Happiness or Holiness?
Why Romance Matters