Life Together. You and me and moments. The smallest ones. What I want to take with me are those seemingly insignificant seconds. I journaled them for a year, tucking them away between secluded lines. The cat jumping into your grey sweatpants when you played videogames. The way your eyes gleamed green-brown in the sun. The way you rustled my hair when I am sick. The way that, sometimes, you made me laugh so hard I fell down on blue carpet (the one we talked about replacing at least 10 times), doubled over in bliss. The way you twirled the frying pan in the kitchen and how you try to dance at weddings and your hips would sway out of rhythm. The way we walked through the golf-course hills and the sun cascades down softly, softly and the breeze rustled my hair and I pretended that we were in Ireland because well, I could, even if we were on a golf-course in the middle of the suburbs. I asked you one day, “Why do you love me?” And you said, “It’s because of the small things. The way you’re there for me on a crappy day. Romance is in doing the dishes, washing the laundry when it accidentally finds the floor, feeding the cat at 5am so that you can sleep in peace.” I agreed. I smiled. I wrote down all of the things that made me a smile. I filled up pages and pages. You raking my garden in perfect rows claiming your baseball experience made you an expert horticulturist (how those two relate I am still deciding); you holding my parents’ duckling close to your chest when the dog chased it around the pen, and the time you told me there was no such thing as “rotel garlic powder” when I forgot the comma on the grocery list; you sticking daisies in my hair for an impromptu photosession, even when you rambled about your baseball stories when I was frantically meeting a deadline. I just wanted to tell you that I’m grateful for you and for all you sacrifice for me– a reflection of the greatest love– the One who is love, and you– you– you’re a way better person than I am. Thank-you.