and I believe everything he tells me . . . . . . . . .
Sid and I awoke about the same time yesterday morning. He was laying on his stomach with his head facing away from me.
“I’m not even looking at you, and I can tell you are beautiful. And if I turn my eyes on you, I just may pass out.”
I quietly contemplate this, considering the two very different ways I could interpret that last part.
I chose to trust what I knew to be his heart.
“How do you feel? Do you feel like the main focus of love in this house?”
Hmmmmmm. . . . . . .I decided it was in my best interest to reply simply and gently, “no.”
“I’ll work on that,” he promises.
Shame on me, but that is not the kind of work I want to encourage my husband to rest from.