A Kind of Magic

My husband possesses a certain kind of magic.

When I have a headache, he can wrap his graceful fingers around my skull and somehow wish the pain away from me.  He simply calls this, “fixing things”.  One night when I got sick and was suffering from a particularly bad asthma attack he sat up all night, one hand on my chest, speaking quiet words and helping me breathe until the morning came and we could make it to the doctor.

Likewise I’ve seen him sit all night on the floor beside our son’s bed when he had a fever, keeping careful vigilance so that he was only an arm’s reach away if needed.  In the morning, the fever had gone.

I’ve seen him pick up a wailing newborn and tuck it under his chin, where it promptly quieted and eventually went to sleep.

I’ve seen him offer someone a hug and witnessed the profound comfort and warmth he can infuse into such a simple, human gesture.

There’s also the disconcerting fact that he continues to grow more attractive with the passing of each year.

People just gravitate toward him.  There’s something indefinable about him that makes people want to be near and to know.  It’s kind of ironic to watch since I know he’s really an introvert.  Most of the time he wants nothing more than to be safe at home with family.

Ted infuses every day with his magic.  Sometimes by bringing home little gifts, be they something I mentioned wanting or something he saw that he believed I would like.  I actually have to be a little careful of what I admire, since much like a loyal wolf he’ll go great lengths to retrieve something his mate wants.  Sometimes it’s by heading back out into a cold, snowy night with my car after he’s worked a very long day to fill the gas tank – so that I don’t have to stop and do it in the morning.  Sometimes it’s just because he always takes care of his share of our housework without ever needing to be asked.  If I’m being honest, that last one isn’t always true of me.

He makes something like Valentine’s Day entirely redundant.  Why would we need a day dedicated to romance or cherishing one another when he makes me feel that way every day?  I don’t need a calendar date to remind him to tell me I’m beautiful since even after ten years of marriage, he spends every day chasing me around the house like I’m the most desirable creature he’s ever laid eyes on.  And just in case I managed to miss the point, he tells me so every day as well.

There’s no one else I want to see every day, talk to every day, touch every day, and who always smells good to me no matter what state they happen to be in.

Sure, sometimes we make each other nuts.  Sometimes there’s screaming and crying, but screaming and crying is just another form of passion if you think about it.  If we didn’t care so much about one another and what the other thinks – would we bother?

One of my friends refers to Valentine’s Day as, “Relationship Obligation Day.”  A day where people (usually men) are supposed to come up with some grand, stupidly expensive gesture to prove that they really do care about the people they romantically love.  But when you’re doing something just because the calendar told you to – does it really have any meaning?  I think another good name for it is, “Painfully Remind People That They’re Single Day.”  I remember this feeling well, and being completely miserable because the day was all about being in love – when I wasn’t.

Just my opinion, but I think this holiday needs to go.  Be good and loving to the person you choose to spend your life with every day.  Otherwise, why did you choose them?

As for Ted – thank you my best friend and true love, for filling each and every day with your unique and wonderful kind of magic.

Love you forever and ever.