Some husbands are showy romantics, showering their wives with flowers, gifts and public expressions of their love.
My husband isn’t one of them, but after seven years of marriage, I’ve come to recognise his expressions of love in the little things.
Like checking it’s okay before saying “yes” to any kind of sporting.
Like offering a shoulder rub when he sees I’m sore.
Like asking me every morning how I slept.
Like taking the boys outside to play so I can have five minutes of peace to serve up dinner, or wipe down the table.
Like not being offended when I re-load the dishwasher.
Like saying “yes” to us getting a kitten, even though he doesn’t like cats.
And like the simple touch on my hips when he gets home from work every day, which always distracts me from whatever the boys were arguing about before he walked in the door.
Seven marvellous, adventure-filled years
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