Something in the Way She Moves

I could read volumes of poetry, research the words of the greatest lovers, and search the Hallmark greeting card aisle for days but George Harrison put it best back in 1969 (my birth year by the way) . . .

"Something in the Way She Moves, Attracts me like no other lover"

Right now, I am sitting comfortably in my living room watching my beautiful wife beat on her Rock Band drums accompanied by her constant companion and faithful lead guitarist (our 7 year old, Houston).  Being the dutiful wife that I am, there is a casserole on the stove (one of her favorites) and it is slowly getting cold because I can't stop watching her.  It is like this always.  I find myself unable to keep my eyes off of her, unable to stay out of touching distance from her, unable to draw a breath without her scent, to think a tought that does not include her.

As I type this, she is wearing the ugliest navy Puma tennis shoes in the world, long socks from having earlier had on her boots, the black wife beater and white bra that she wore under her western shirt to work today, and a pair of wrinkled royal blue plaid man-shorts that she had to pilfer from the garage because this is our first warm day in Reno.  Surely, I do not love her so because of her fashion sense.  She just now turned to me and said "I'm sweating between my fat rolls.  Want to feel?" . . . clearly, I do not love her so because of such sweet words.  She is moody, stubborn, has the worst tattoo I've ever seen, and pouts like a 3 year old, but . . .

"Somewhere in her smile she knows, That I don't need no other lover" 

She is the man of my dreams.  Not just because she never makes me take out the trash.  Not just because she buys me fresh flowers for no reason at all.  Not just because she never lets me get dirty, lift anything heavy, or carry the groceries in from the car.  Not just because she works tirelessly to make sure our needs our met.  Not because she thanks me for every meal I put on the table even when it's just a sandwich.  Not even because she is the best parent that I could possibly have ever asked to share in the raising of my children.  She is the very definition of the true Southern Gentleman that existed in the years before I was ever born.  I love her for all of these things but more than that, I just love who she is . . . the person at her very core that adores me and all my many flaws, the person who rolls over in my bed every time I do, the person who always sleeps closest to the door and walks closest to the street to protect me from whatever evil lurks around the next corner.  I love her smile, the way she looks at me, the way she smells, and, yes . . . the way she moves.

I implore you , dear readers, to step forth and sympathize with me because I surely cannot be the only one, besides George Harrison, who finds another so completely intoxicating as I do my love.  She makes me so proud to be . . .

Girl Dad's Wife