"The One"

I was recently watching a show about a young girl angsting over whether or not her current boyfriend was "the one" and I couldn't help but take a moment to be grateful that I am married. Happily married. I know I have found "the one". He wasn't necessarily "the one" when I married him, of course. Then he was just a really sexy guy I sort of knew and he seemed right for me. I was right. Whew. Now, almost 29 years later, he still a really sexy guy but I know him very, very well.

My son Caspian also recently remarked to me that our family says, "I love you" to each other more than the average family he has been around, but, he said, "I don't see you and Dad say it as often as you used to." This observation surprised me. I am guessing, on an average day, Joseph and I say, "I love you" to each other more than a half to a dozen times. It is never said out of habit or obligation--we mean it each time. We say it consciously.

Yesterday morning we ran some errands together, including a stop at our local and favorite Goodwill. On the way in, my left shoe came untied. Joseph stopped--in the rain--went down on one knee and tied it for me. Was I not capable of doing it? Of course not. He did it cuz he loves me. Ten minutes later, in the paper aisle, my right shoe came untied. I started laughing, he looked down and saw it, and with a smirk, he tied the other one. Later, when I was hit by hot flash #4903950-3 of the day, he stood behind me in the furniture section and blew cool air across the back of my neck. (Leading to many sexual innuendo comments in the process, of course.) Then, as we were leaving and it was pouring rain, he took all of the packages and told me to wait inside while we went and got the car, which he pulled up right in front.

How do I know he loves me? He proved it to me at least four times in Goodwill yesterday. Yup, no question about it. I found "the one".