This photo made it's first appearance on my dear friend Sara's blog. She snapped it. She obviously bears the title "photographer", well. Her blog is private, I'm sorry if you aren't as lucky as me to be able to read it. But, that's beside the point here.
I love the shot. Our eyes are closed. And with our (proverbial) eyes closed I am his star that fell from heaven (more often than not, a prettier image than the be-jammied, srub-of-a-wife that usually putters around his home) and he is continually sweeping me off my feet (this image is actually pretty accurate "open-eyed" as well). I will never go into the intimate details of who "we" are because this blog is NOT private....yet. But, it suffices to say, with our eyes open, we daily fortify each other against the torrents of the world.
He holds my strings. I tend to get "carried away" by--anything--ideas, plans, morals, philosophies, marketing ploys, and dinner parties included.
With his eyes open he has this uncanny almost annoying knack for perspective, keeping a "grip on reality". Except, as our children pass through the various ( and often maddening) phases of childhood he almost always chides, "None of our other kids did this!" I smile and kiss him (see above) because ignorance is bliss--especially when it comes to having children.
But, I'm taking this time to gush. Somehow, if I can proclaim it to the world then it will carry a bit more weight when he sits down at 3 am tomorrow morning to browse around online after his shift. Gush gush gush.
My college years in Comparative Literature planted in me the critical eye (and mouth). And yet, Craig bears the effects of this with great stoicism. He does not retaliate. The most cutting he ever gets is to say, "Point taken". Though I am often left craving a good argument, I'm grateful that he nips this particular marital virus in the bud. The strength of our union and the confidence I have in its "everlasting-ness" I owe for the most part to his refusal to join in my wedge-driving. Besides, with three talkers 5 and under, I get a heaping helping of arguments enough to satiate a whole herd of "me's".
More gushing. Despite having sunk his roots in reality, he will dream with me. Why don't we move to Spain and spend some years abroad? When I take you deep-sea diving... When you write your bestseller...Go put your feet up, I'll put the kids to bed tonight? (actually this just happened yesterday). This periodic dose of the "romantic" keeps me swooning. I fell in love with the dreamer and I'm sticking around for the anchor.
Plus, he makes utterly edible babies (see above).