So often, November begins in the shadow of Halloween and ends in a sweep toward Christmas. November should be a season unto itself. A season of gratitude and preparation; a season to pause and truly give thanks; a season to reflect on the bounty in our lives.
I devote this month to the counting of blessings and the giving of thanks.
This day, I give thanks for my husband.
He is my heart and my joy and, without him, my life would be dark, lonely, and incomplete. He is my port in the storm that is me. He is a father to my children beyond my dreams, and he gave my son his deep, dark brown eyes into which I happily fall, a little, every single day.
Unlike any other person in my life, he accepts me as I am and loves me unconditionally. He's seen me at my absolute worst and never reflected it in his eyes. He looks at me the same way, whether I be dressed in my wedding gown and lit by candles or swathed in my bathrobe and hair a mess; bless the man, I always see love in his eyes.
He draws back the covers for me each night and makes coffee every morning. He makes me laugh and he holds me when I cry. He supports me when I'm at my strongest as well as when I'm at my weakest.
He loves me, and I love him, and some days, that is all I know, yet that is enough . . .
From that all things flow . . .
And for that, gratitude is not word enough.
I sure love you, Honey.