I have come to a great time in my life: for the first time, the word “love” doesn’t do my feelings any justice.
The best way I can describe this feeling is love, but what I really mean is that my heart is bleeding warmness. I literally feel a warm, prickly, fluttering in my chest cavity, nearly constantly. It’s almost like the heart-racing excitement that came with sprinting in from my first half marathon.
All I have ever wanted is to feel this happy with another person. Wholeheartedly, in every aspect of the word, in love.
I look at this kid when he wakes up in the morning with crusty sleep in his eyes and I love him. We cuddle (and look forward to it) every night and I love him. The cuddle factor is huge, for never have I ever been a true cuddler. I feel like I glow with blissful happiness in his presence. I can feel a tenderness when I look into his eyes and know that it is real when I see the same look reflected in his eyes. We laugh together more than ever and I know that I love him. He kisses my nose and swirls me around the kitchen in an attempt to silently dance and I know that he loves me too.