Beat, beat…

I drove Richard to the Westcoast Express Station the other day to catch the 6:30 a.m. train into Vancouver, as I have every day for the past three years or so. As I watched him walk away from the van, his beautiful form clad in business casual, something within me stirred and I realized that I missed him already…and I couldn’t wait for 5:10 to arrive so I could see him again.

These feelings don’t bubble up very often in my stone cold heart that is three sizes too small. After 15 plus years of marriage, the “butterflies in my stomach” buzz is more likely to happen after eating a bad burrito than it is from catching sight of the person that I’m most comfortable with in the whole wide world. I no longer get dizzy from the slightest touch of his hand. My breath doesn’t catch at the sound of his voice.

I do, however, look forward to his daily phone call at work. We can easily while away a half hour of talk about our budget, the kids or about our plans for the future at the same time that I’m paying 180 union electricians and he’s scanning aerial photos. Funny that we can then go home after a long day and have dinner with the kids, then both of us will sit in front of the computer or the TV and not discuss more than who’s taking who to what practice or should I be debiting the money for buns and ham out of chequing or savings (DON’T TOUCH THE CHEQUING ACCOUNT! he always says…I usually forget and use it anyways). We also have our longest and best talks when we are taking a drive somewhere, whether it be two cities over to a soccer game on a Sunday or out to Kelowna for a weekend visit with our family. We have this easy banter culled from years of knowing each other from the inside-out. We have the same values, the same goals and usually when we disagree about an issue, one of us can eventually be swayed into the other teams camp. I say USUALLY, because I will never be convinced that time travel is possible. You can’t go back to what isn’t there anymore and you can’t go forward to what isn’t there yet. And I’m firm on that one.

I love that he’s the first one to pick up a duster or run the vacuum. I love that he’s a great father who’s involved in every aspect of our childrens’ lives. I love that he sends me flowers or brings me gifts when I least expect it. Not usually on Valentine’s Day, because that would be too predictable…but certainly on Vicky’s PMSing And She Needs To Know She’s Loved Day or I Passed This Street Flower Vendor Downtown And Thought Of You Day. I love knowing that I’m on his mind and that sometimes his heart stirs a little bit too. Like it did in 1988, when the hormones were practically bleeding out of our ears. I remember the constant, dull roar in my chest brought on by him. Beat, beat…my crush. Beat, beat…my boyfriend. Beat, beat…my best friend. Beat, beat…my husband.

I look forward to spending many more years with him, driving and talking. Working and talking. I worry that I might one day have to spend part of my life without him. He can’t be the first to go, because then I would be left to do the driving…and I would talk to him anyways. And that would just look silly.

…beat, beat. My Valentine.



5 responses to this post.

  1. that was really well said!


  2. What a wonderful post…I can relate except Daren and I text message back and forth – so cute.


  3. Very sweet! Whenever I get frustrated with my husband, I always think, “but who would get my jokes if we split up?” Sometimes, familiarity is just great.


  4. Posted by Viewsfromtwo on February 14, 2007 at 9:33 pm

    Beautiful! I wish you and he a very Happy Valentines Day!


  5. Aw lovely post!! Hope you had a lovely Valentine’s Day.


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