The Valentine

The Valentine

It is not the red rope bracelet with the gold heart that I never want to take off.  It is not the rose gold earrings that perfectly match my dress.

It is not the box of hand-painted Venezuelan truffles that taste like heaven.

It is not the roses that add color to my workspace.

It is not the words that everyone else also hears on Valentine’s Day.

 

It is the playlist you gave me after our NYE date with the song no one else understood, until you.

It is our secret code of squeezing each other’s hand when something funny, sad, ironic, happy happens when we are out with other people.

It is the way your sky blue eyes light up backstage and tell me you love me in more ways than your words ever could.

It is you driving to my house in the middle of the night to take the letter you taped to my garage door back, because we’re fighting and I told you that I better not get one more text, etc., from you trying to explain yourself.

It is the two-hour phone call after an exhausting day.

It is the way you pay such meticulous detail to cooking as though you are preparing a meal fit for a queen.

It is the card opened after a long day on the road with the band, reminding you that you have someone waiting at home.

It is the way you pretend like you haven’t heard a song before because you don’t want to take the joy away from me of having you listen to it for the first time.

It is me trying to teach you to dance in my kitchen like my dad used to teach me in our living room growing up,  so you’re ready to visit my country bars in Wyoming.

It is the song you sent me to replace my morning alarm.

It is the FaceTime in the middle of the night to remind me that you are still there.

It is you reminding me to check my mail everyday because your postcard must have arrived by now and it’s really important that I read it (even though you’re already back from your trip).  

It is the simple moment on your couch when burying my head in your chest dissolves all of the stress of a long Monday.

It is the way you put your arm around me in the grocery store as though I might get lost forever in the aisles if you don’t.

It is the morning text message and the text goodnight.

It is Chewi insisting that he have his head on both of us at the same time, or he’ll cry.

It is you + me (+ Chewi), everyday.

<3 M.

The Miss

The Miss

The Things You Need To Believe In

The Things You Need To Believe In