Have I mentioned that I fall in love with my husband a lot? Seriously. The whole “falling in love” phenomenon did not happen how I thought it would, or maybe I’m just doing it wrong.
There are some days that I don’t think about it very much. I can go through my whole day and not have a lovey-dovey thought about my husband. But then something simple will happen. Like we’ll be sitting in bed watching Lord of the Rings, and I’m not even sure he wants to be watching it at this hour or if I’m keeping him up, and I’m not really sure what he’s thinking at all because he doesn’t always communicate well. But then my mind is racing and I think, even if he doesn’t want to be doing this, he is because he knows I was excited about it. And come to think of it, he also cooked dinner tonight, and picked me up from my parent’s house, and helped me decorate for a Christmas event, and went shopping to get me Christmas presents. And suddenly there is no possible way I have ever loved him enough because he deserves all the love in the world, and I just admire and appreciate and respect him so much. Then it’s not at all about the things he does to make me happy. It’s all about how he should always, always and forever be happy.
So then I cuddle next to him, give him a little squeeze and tell him he’s wonderful. And we go back to watching ten-minute intervals of close-up shots of a ring. Or Elijah Wood’s face. And that’s that.
At least, that’s how falling in love feels for me.