Yesterday I was driving to Florence for a business trip, and I was thinking about my husband. He had made a special early morning trip for orange juice in a vitamin-laced response to my new cough. He was worried that I had to drive three hours in the rain. He made breakfast. He was taking care of me.
I realized that the word "husband" still gives me a giddy little rush. When does this end? I hope it doesn't. I'll try to extend it as long as I can, maybe forever.