The man I married is thin and cocky, jauntily carrying himself across the room, tanned and toe headed. I swoon at his touch and am mesmerized by his icy blue eyes that exude merriment. I find his laughter contagious and am warmed by his sense of humor.
The man I married is gentle and caring, warmed by the sight of his children, absorbing their energy and filling the room with his light. We orbit his presence like planets around the sun in our own little galaxy.
The man I married is strong and sensitive, guiding our children between right and wrong, work and play, fantasy and faithfulness. As he moves from baseball buddy to tea party play time, I find beauty in this form of manhood.
The man I married is quick to laugh while more quickly cries and is swept away by his daughters’ beauty as arm-in-arm, he sends them off to the men they marry. I find myself touched by this moment of raw emotion, and find my heart is warmed.
The man I married is strong, yet gentle. Funny and serious. Smart and courageous. He is not the man I married, but the man that has become more than he was.
The man I married is the man to whom I love being married. The man I married has become the man I love.