Warning: this post might make you throw up.
It’s funny to think back when Kyle and I first started talking about marriage, just about this time last year, and how we thought we were “in love.” We did love each other, but it doesn’t even come close to how much I love him now. Looking back, we were strangers talking about spending eternity together. Crazy. I’m sure glad both of us had enough guts to follow the promptings and feelings to move forward, even though it scared us both to death.
I love the sweet notes he occasionally puts in my car before I go to work.
I love that he really cares about others and goes out of his way to help them.
I love that he’s both book smart and street smart. He can crunch really big numbers AND change the oil in the car.
I love that he loves to be goofy (you should see his dance moves; he knows how to cut a rug!)
I love that he tells me I’m beautiful in the morning even when I have crazy Beethoven, bed head hair and left over make up on my face.
I love that he likes to cuddle and he’s good at it.
I love to listen to him pray. I especially love the first time I heard him pray. I remember opening my eyes and looking over at him and thinking, “DANG, girl! You just hit the jackload!” (Jackload=Inside joke)
Basically…
I love that I’m more me when I’m with him.
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