I made Mexican Queso tonight for dinner, and you would have thought the circus was coming to town for the great delight I found in every single detail. Or something better than that, since I’m only so-so on the circus. My joy was definitely far greater than the traveling routines of elephants and clowns.
The boys finished their homework after school, Peter came over at the end of his day, and I put dinner on the table for a party of four. There are just not enough words for the beauty of that equation.
My neighbor texted me late in the evening: “I drove by your house and saw your dinner table full of love. Your house is beaming. So happy for you.” It’s true. There’s so much joy in this home; it spills right out onto the sidewalks.
There’s so much that’s just so good right now.
Four place settings.
Singing in the car.
Slow dancing in the kitchen.
“Gentleman, please obey your mom.”
I am so swept away in the greatness of this gift, in the joy of companionship and restoration and life. I feel fourteen years old, and a little like I’m living a Karen Carpenter song. I cannot believe how wonderful it is to have him in my life.
Perhaps there is no greater love story than when two people are individually sure they got the better end of the deal.
Sometimes you don’t know you were lost until you’re found.
You can never again take the sunshine for granted, not after you've wondered if it was gone forever.
In this home, everybody has somebody.
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P. S. Because I love you, here you go. It's a winner every time. You're welcome.