I know it weighs heavy on you that we don't have 'enough'. I know you want more for your family( of course you do ). I know sometimes you can't sleep just because of how badly you want more for us.
We may not have enough through the years, but we always have plenty.
It's just true. I know you know it, really, if you look hard enough, deep enough. You see the faces of our kids. You see how I look at you.
If I ever make it through The Middle, to the financial place I'm trying to get to with my writing,
then I'd like you to know that some of the things I cherish most about you would be corrupted with change- I am requesting that the following remain the same:
I love that you walk out of 7-11 with a styrofoam coffee cup in your hand, black coffee, and that the jacket across your broad, thick shoulders is a bit worn, ragged on the edges. It makes me want to tear the jacket right off of you and eat your face, kiss you silly, do you on the hood of the car. Your effortless authenticity and grounded ways are the anchor of my life. I love the darkened lines of your workman's hands. I love the paperbacks, wet with bath and coffee, that you read and leave all over the house. I love your thin boxers, hanging over the round tight apple of your beautiful ass. I love your muscled long legs, hard from labor. I love that you think deeply about your political viewpoints from the position of a blue collar worker. I love that you voted Obama. I love that your cell phone doesn't have a 'leather binder' or 'application options' but instead folds open and snaps shut, antenna and all. I love that when you take out your wallet, it's small and wrinkled leather with bills stuffed inside. You don't wear accessories. Your shoes are tennis or Chuck. Your face shows the compassion, exhaustion and resilience of a man working hard for a living. I love that when you take our sons or daughters out, it's for ice cream or nickel arcades or tiny earrings from Claire's. I love that you take our sons to lay concrete for twenty bucks on a Saturday. I love that your first car was a broken down Nova you still miss. Most of all, my darling... I love that when you touch me, kiss me, and lay me down in our bed, you make me feel like a diamond in a coal mine.