Dear husband.

The other day I caught myself thinking about standards for love, for relationships, for the soulmates we tie ourselves to - or for the mates our souls tie themselves to, slowly and without us realizing. You and I, we've been together for more than a decade now. Nearly thirteen years of ups and downs, wrestling with our dreams and hopes and the complexities of marriage, in all of its challenge and beauty.

I've come to see that what we call love is not in the words we shared on our wedding day. It is the closeness of feet in the bed after a night of heated discussion. The knowing glance. The mornings of burnt toast and disheveled hair and ever-growing to-do list - and a dance in the kitchen, anyway. It is when I haven't liked you, but fought for you, still. 

I haven't yet decided what came first - my standards, or the high bar you've set for them.

What am I trying to say?

My heart is yours, by choice and by association. For who you are and who you've become and for all the days of choosing each other, putting words into action. 

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