Things have been a little dodgy with my husband and I for a week or so. I, as usual, opened my over-sized mouth and uttered a comment or three that should have remained unspoken... he, as usual, got all distant, quiet and broody while maintaining that everything was just fine.
We spent a quiet weekend together, eyeing each other warily from across rooms. Saturday night, after a busy day, we went for a long walk together, and in the isolation of the still night air of the last day of spring, poured out our hearts to one another in the messy, slightly confrontational, yet healing way that we have discovered solves our blockages of communication. We (gently, somehow) stomp, posture, accuse, and eventually come around to understand each other... and more importantly, we become ready to admit that we understand each other.
My last thread of rebellion and stubborness melted when he took my face in his hands, looked deep in my eyes, and said, "I get you, you know."
And he does. All my quirks, complications, baggage, moods and foibles. He gets me.
Somehow, this is bigger than the fact that he loves me. It is possible to love someone without understanding them... but infinitely better and more meaningful when someone sees you in all your imperfections, understands you better then you do yourself at times, and still loves you.
I am truly blessed to have him in my life.