Hands, and how I knew...

I knew even before you arrived that I would hold your hand as we rode back home after picking you up the first time. I did. But I didn’t know that it would be the moment that I realized you were my forever. As we drove through the darkness, I looked back into your eyes and reached out, expecting you to meet me, and you did, but not in the way that I expected. You took my hand in both of yours and held it so gently, as though it were the most precious thing in the world to you in that moment. You raised it to your lips, kissing it, then pressed it against your cheek, your forehead, and I felt the tears there, like the ones on my own, both then and as I write this. 

It was such a careful thing, tentative, as though you were afraid I would disappear. But how could I, my love? How could I ever walk away from someone who would treat me so, who would love me that way? I was yours, in the moment, and for all the ones that followed, and will follow. I never want to be somewhere that you can’t reach me that way, even when we’re apart, as we must be now. I will never have the words to tell you how you make me feel, but I’ll never cease trying. Thank you, my sweet girl, for seeing me true, for choosing me, for…all of this. I love you, with all that I am, all that I have ever been, and all that I will be, now and always.