Love

I love my husband and he loves me. I am pretty sure of that. He isn't romantic, he doesn't bring me flowers or whisper sweet nothing's, stare at the moon and stars with me but, he never complains. He doesn't find fault with me, nothing I do seems to annoy him, he is happy to cook, clean, go to the shop, take the children to school. He accepts me as I am and reminds me not to refer to myself as fat or lazy! He is opinionated and strong willed, capable of skilful manipulation and there are times when we stubbornly disagree with each other. All the things I found annoying in previous relationships, the petty things like middle of the toothpaste squeezing and slurping of tea, I seem to be able to tolerate more because he is he. I don't know why we work. We are quite an odd couple. He won me with his understanding and supportive nature. His sense humour. He wants me to fly and be all I can be. It's not all smooth and easy going but, right when I think I can't see how we can solve our stubborn differences, he makes me want to try again. He is old and set in his ways, he likes to be in control. He's a vulnerable child afraid of being wrong behind his facade. He is always trying to get everything done, so he can have what he feels is his prize, me. He forgets to stop and smell the roses he forgets he is denying me. A workaholic. Why does it feel like I just swallowed a stone? Maybe I should be the one showing him how? Yes! Kerplunk! The penny dropped. It has to come from me.