Being In Love

Someone once asked me how you know if you love someone.

Tonight I walked up the stairs and saw above me the fluorescent glow of an unseen television, escaping through the bedroom door and cast against the walls of the hallway. When I reached the top and peered around the corner, I could see Dena bundled up in comfy clothes and snuggled up under a blanket in the darkened bedroom.

"I'm still awake," came her voice weakly but with a touch of smile, unconditionally happy to see me. For the past couple of days she's been battling a cold that bedded her until 10 this morning and has sent her back at 7 tonight. Like any other adversity before her, she's attacked it with workaholism. Her Sunday afternoon was spent combing through the minutiae of a technical manual the size of a brick, getting ahead of a busy week of work, and doing several loads of laundry. And when I arrived home from the gym today, I found a Valentine's Day card and one of my favorite movies (Disney's Enchanted) awaiting me on my desk.

And now, having dosed herself with Nyquil so that she can be up to embrace the sunrise and be sunlight for the world tomorrow, she was ready to say good night. I reached over her, kissing her forehead softly above those artistic half-glasses that capture so well the difference she's been for me. Her creative eyes and wandering spirit have colored and brightened not only my home, but my days and nights. Her servant heart, physical resilience, and thoughtful support have inspired vitality in all the right parts of our marriage. We're good for each other. And as I slipped downstairs and pondered for just an instant how it would be if this were the last time our eyes ever met, I knew from that profound sense of sadness how much I love her.