Every morning, he lets me sleep in for that extra 15 minutes while he gets up to quieten the meowing cat and to make breakfast. But not before he leans down to give me a morning dear kiss.
And when we are on the train to work, he automatically adjusts his shoulders so that they are of the perfect height for me to put my head against.
He holds my hand when we are in the supermarket shopping for groceries, when we are navigating the busy traffic, when we are walking to the bus stop, when we are waiting in line…we hold hands just about all the time.
We laugh a lot – before we sleep as he fumbles in near darkness to kiss me goodnight (only to land one on my nostrils), when we are eating breakfast, when we are waiting for the train, when we are crossing the road…we laugh just about all the time.
He does whatever I tell him to when I am holding the camera, even if it means making a milk mustache.
We go into Toys’R’Us and have mock fights using some random foam stick things.
And when I cry during sad movies, he leans in closer so that I can bury my wet face into his shoulder and let my hot tears wet his shirt.
He lets me have the last piece of chocolate.
I make silly, lame jokes and he laughs as if they are the funniest things he had heard that day.
He would rather sleep without the covers and freeze than to get under them and risk waking me up.
And if I do wake up and get really grumpy, he gives me ample space to thrash around the bed until I finally find a comfortable spot to snooze in. Even if I happen to cross over the middle line.
There are a million and one reasons why I love him.
Everyday, I look at him and think to myself, thank you God for putting this wonderful man in my life.
Dear husband, happy anniversary. You mean the world to me.