The Airplane Text

"I love you - be careful"

Simple phrase. Simply put. I hear it often. It comes at a time when it is very appropriate to hear. It has become kind of a sense of security for me.

I fly a lot. Probably too much. Every week I board between 2 and 6 airplanes bound for somewhere. My wife and I make it a practice to have me call before I take off and immediately after I land. "I love you - be careful" is the last thing I hear before every departure.

At first I didn't recognize the pattern. I didn't really realize that my wife made sure that was the last thing she said to me. I also didn't realize that it had been happening that way for a long time. Once I noticed, I started to count on it. "I love you - be careful". "I will honey, I love you too." Hearing it is important to me. I think saying it is important to her. She doesn't like to fly for a variety of reasons, but the "I love you - be careful" reminds me that she really doesn't like me to fly either. That she worries about me. That she cares about me.

Loving someone is a much easier process than truly caring about them. "I love you - be careful" is the phrase that tells me that this is much more than love. That I am so lucky to be the object of her love and caring.

Ironically, I wrote this on my morning flight today. I then boarded my evening flight late and when I called her she was busy with the kids. For the first time, she missed saying it. I hung up the phone with kind of an empty feeling. Kind of scared. I called back and she acknowlegded that it didn't happen. It was really the first time we had ever even recognized to each other that it was a recurring sequence of events. The she said it.

"I love you - be careful". Needless to say I landed took off an landed safely. I was careful.

Glad You Liked It

Well your birthday is over. I was quite happy that you liked this gift. I was a little nervous that you might find it a bit weird.

It was hard to leave today. Getting up early wasn't near as bad as having to be away from you for a few days. I had a scary flight. The weather made the flight bumpy and we had one of those abrupt "drops". Not like our PVR drop, but a slight one all the same.

It kind of got me thinking when it happened. 20 years ago I lived my life day to day. If I made it through another day so be it, no real looking to tomorrow. Then I met you and suddenly tomorrow means so much more to me.

So much in my life is better because of you. Having someone to share everything with makes thinsg seem so much more real. You truly are my best friend. The best friend I have ever had. I think that is what makes our marriage so unique. We are truly good friends. I think that in itself is pretty romantic. While I may not be overtly romantic (flowers, cards, etc.), I always think romantically. A hopelessly in love boy. Thats what I am.

I love you - good night.

Happy Birthday!

Ok so this is it. The most effort I have ever gone to for a birthday present.

I am not sure this is what you were expecting, but I promise it is a gift that will give over and over and over again.

I love you - Happy Birthday!

The Birthday Gift

As I prepared this "blog" concept as a gift, I often wondered whether or not it was the right thing to do. How do I provide my wife a forum to read what I really feel and not sound obsessive. How do I keep the truly personal nature of what I want to say and yet somehow hide it from the very public nature of a blog?

I know how I feel. I can feel it. I am certainly not confident that all of what runs through my mind can be put on to pages and text. I guess that is why I cannnot write songs. But I am going to try. Some how, some way, my wife needs to know how I really feel. More importantly - how it feels for me to feel this way. As this is very personal, I plan to keep complete anonymity through the course of these entries. Only those who know us very well would ever be able to understand or know who we are.

I'll present a good example. Often I hear a song. I listen to words. I listen to how people sing. Many times the words or even the way someone sings their song sounds much like how I feel about my wife. I can't sing, I can't write songs, I can't play the guitar. Frankly, I don't even hum with any real conviction. But I'd give anything to be able to do it for my wife. To write something poignant or have her hear that tone in my voice.

Take the song "Dogs" (I will refer to songs often throughout the course of this blog effort) by Damien Rice. Frankly, the lyrics don't really fit my thoughts on my love for my wife. How the song is ung certainly does. Here are the lyrics in question:

She's always dressed in white

She's like an angel and it burns my eyes

When she turns she pulls her smile

We drive around and she drives me wild

And she moves like a little girls

I become a child when she rules my world

When she gets splashed in play and turns and away

And leaves me standing....

Are the lyrics perfect? No. Do they completely apply to my feelings? Close. Its the way the song is sung that gets me. The powerful sound of passionate love. Thats it. That sound the the singer wants nothing more than for the person for whom he wrote the song to hear and smile. Smile and feel what he feels.

I just want my wife to know I feel that way. That I have moments away from her where the overwhelming melancholy of the moment finds me in her arms even though I may be hundreds of miles away. That at many times during many days something makes me feel like I am hugging you from afar. That is what I feel. I would not trade that sense of joy and the power of those moments for anything.

Now I guess somehow I need to stop being such a huge coward and not hide these thought sbehind some blog, huh? Oh well - its a start.

Get off that Couch!

About a week ago my wife started asking me about a new couch. We already have a quite fine couch I thought to myself. One that my very cheap mind often reminds me how that we paid to much for. Really, I was just about to go down the "geez do we really need all this stuff" path again (sconces, damn sconces!), when I had a thought.

I started to realize that that couch, or any couch, is really what our marriage is all about. It has little to do with the couch itself, that would be silly. It has everything to do with the abundance of time we spend together on that couch.

That couch is the center of our home. The center of our family. The center of our relationship.

We joke about the lack of "something in common" (I will never live that down will I?). The amount of time we spend just being together is that "something in common". We watch our many TV shows together. We make each other laugh. We playfully tease each other (wet Willy's?). We have all of that in common.

Ironically, much of that interaction is spent on that couch. Foot rubbing, jockeying for comfort, fighting for the remote, tickling, snuggling, it all happens on that couch. Hour after hour after hour. All hours I cherish. All hours I look forward to. Hours of pure pleasure and love.

You want a new couch honey? Go get one. I hope it brings us as much joy as the last one. And the one before that, and the one before that.

All my love and much couching.

When She Sleeps

My wife is truly beautiful. There is nothing on this earth I'd rather look at day after day. During the day when she is awake I can gaze at her eyes forever, it seems. They change from time to time. Why I have no idea, but the fact that they do is really cool. Sometimes they appear darker than others, but always they are worth the time I spent looking at them.

This is all well and good, but it is when she sleeps that she really amazes me with her beauty. Asleep she is the most beautiful creature on earth. Something in her smile, that fascinating, peaceful smile touches me. Maybe it is because she loves to sleep so much (she really does). Maybe it is because when she sleeps I control the TV remote (yup - ESPN baby!). Mostly I think it is because I know that the re-occurring evening event means that when I awake she will be a part of another day with me on the road to forever.

Something very cool must happen to her when she sleeps. She laughs at me when I tell her that in the morning she smells like pancakes. But she does! The morning is always when i am most attracted to her (yup pancakes = sexy) and that sweet smell is a big part of it. I cannot tell you how many times I simply wake up, roll over and take the sweet scent of the back of her neck in as if it where some kind of terrific wake up call.

So I guess that's it, she sleeps perfectly and I love it. She wakes up a part of my life. That is certainly worth something every day isn't it?

I can't wait for tonight! Ahhhhhhh!