Do you know what he used to do?
He used to warm up my side of the bed. He would lay there, in my spot, so the sheets would be warm when I climbed in. And then he would move over to the cold side and start all over again, warming a spot for himself.
Other times, he would stand at my bedside, with his palm open. As I rattled out the last few details of the day, he would collect the bobbles of jewelry I hadn't taken off before I climbed into bed. He would gather my earrings, necklace(s) and bracelet(s), and he would pile them gently on my dresser.
"I know that can be a pretty ridiculous thing to watch from the outside, but it's a pretty beautiful thing to belong to on the inside."
When he went to bed before me, he put toothpaste on my toothbrush and set it out, ready for my bedtime routine. (I never told him that sometimes that toothpaste had hardened because I'd stayed up too late.)
When he left for work before I was awake, he would arrange the blankets around me, pull them up to my chin, and tuck them around me. (I never told him that sometimes that rearranging took away the warm spots.)
He would kiss my curly head, and sometimes he let his hand linger in my hair before he walked away. (I never told him that sometimes I was silently awake.)
He liked it best when I hugged him without my shoes on. Because the top of my head was the perfect height to rest his chin when he hugged me.
I heard someone say recently, "I know that can be a pretty ridiculous thing to watch from the outside, but it's a pretty beautiful thing to belong to on the inside."
(Happy Valentine's Day, babe.)