Today is my wife's 21st birthday. It's just after 5am and she's still asleep in bed even though I woke her up by waking up and told her I loved her and happy birthday. These are our mornings. I can't seem to sleep and she doesn't really get to because I can't.
Love is kind of plain that way, I think. It doesn't really happen in the grand gestures like a movie or ten seasons of a sitcom would suggest. I don't think it's plainness makes it any more special though.
It's nice to have someone around for the plain.
She's 21 on the 21st. It's her golden birthday. I hope I can make it really special for her. She's requested a romcom marathon. I'll roll my eyes and secretly enjoy it. She thinks I don't like them, even though I really do. The good ones, at least. Of course I'll let her pick the ones we watch though.
It's a funny thing, being two months into a marriage. A lot has changed, I have changed, and I hope it's in ways for the better.
I still have distance to go.
Now, as I write again, it's about 4 hours later. I'm sitting at an awkward angle so she can't see I'm writing about her as she watches TV. She's lovely, even when she furrows her brow at the slightest thing that happens on her show.
I love her.