I love you, Em

I want to finish this page with something totally from the heart.  I've never been afraid of my emotions and I've never been afraid to express them.  

Emily, you have taken my heart by storm.  You have been open, honest, loving, and believing in this relationship we have.  I knew I was interested when I saw your profile, excited when we were going to meet up, very intrigued the night before we met at Applebee's when you asked me if I planned on kissing you, infatuated after our lips met, and in love with you shortly after.  Our hearts opened up to each other and quickly to our kids.  

I love Natalie as if she was my daughter and you love Brayden in the same way.  Your family welcomed me into their life and I felt at home instantly.  I love watching you and Natalie together and we have so much fun playing around.  I know you catch me all the time looking at you in amazement, and the truth is, I get lost in my thoughts.  I think about our future, the life we are building, how well our kids get along, and how I never will let you go.  I think about your smile and how you back away from a kiss and look at me.  I think about your competitiveness, your playfulness, and your willingness to try something new.  

I appreciate your patience with me when it comes to eating vegetables and the example you set for Natalie.  I appreciate your banter, the way that you carry yourself, and how hard you work for the cheer organization.  

I love the relationship you have with your family and how hard you work to support Natalie's dreams.  

I love our intense connection.  I love the way we hold hands, kiss in passing, joke with each other, and cuddle in bed.  I love you with every ounce of my being and I will continue to fight for us. I will fight for our family. 

I leave you with one last thing: an excerpt from one of my favorite poems.

I love you without knowing how,

or when,

or from where.

I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;

so I love you because I know no other way than this:

where I does not exist, nor you,

so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,

so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

-Sonnet XVII by Pablo Neruda