After the kids are asleep, he pulls me into his arms and looks deep into my eyes and I am drowning in his. His eyes are all pupil, deep black pools, intense and powerful, with thin bands of blue-green color surrounding them, and his emotions so easy to read in there.
He kisses me, soft butterfly kisses dropping onto my lips, my cheeks, my neck, shoulders, arms, forehead, breasts, all over, and my body comes to life like it has never come to life before. He tells me that I am so responsive, that I respond to words and to touch like nobody he's ever known, and I tell him that nobody I have ever known has spoken to me or touched me the way that he does.
He makes me feel like a precious jewel, like a treasure, like a thing of beauty and like somebody who is loved and desireable and wanted. And he never closes his eyes. When he makes love with me, he watches my face, my body, he is with me the entire time, not somewhere else, not wishing I were somebody else. He likes light, doesn't like to hide under the shroud of darkness.
He whispers to me, "I love you. You're my wife, you're beautiful.." and I am melting in his arms, just melting. He could do whatever he wanted to me, anything at all, and he knows it, but he takes no unfair advantage. He's not that way, never that way. He's always been good and gentle and kind and fair.
I revel in his body, touching him, holding him, tracing my fingers through his chest and belly hair. Giving him pleasure and tasting the salt of his skin, smelling his hair, nuzzling his neck. He has the same poor self body-image that I have myself, and I can't figure it out, his body is beautiful to me. I look at him and I am in awe, astounded. I think of the lines from Shakespeare:
"What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! How infinite in faculties! In form and moving, how express and admirable! In action how like an angel! In apprehension, how like a god! The beauty of the world!"
And his face, my God! He's so beautiful. Handsome isn't the word. He's flat out beautiful, and there is not a photograph that exists that captures his beauty. Cupid's bow lips, finely chiseled bone structure, a strong brow, and those incredible, piercing eyes. The soft beard, and the moustache that he keeps trimmed so that it doesn't end up in the way of our kisses.
When he sleeps, he looks like a baby. And sometimes he looks just like a little boy. Yes, even with the beard.
Our middle boy, Ken, looks most like him. That same incredible beauty. All of our boys are beautiful, but Ken has that same ethereal quality that Sam has, almost elfin. Kyle and Owen are adorable hobbits, Merry and Pippinish. Ken and Sam are elfs, Legolas.. (except that Sam will always be my loving and loyal Samwise with the furry feet).
Last night before he left for class he looked at me with terror in his amazing eyes and told me that he was afraid that one day I would just pack my bags and leave, that I would decide that the boys were too much for me, that he was too much for me. Never. Oh never, never ever, Sam.
I love you.
Don't ever doubt it.
I cannot believe that God gave this to me.