I love you when you sit in front of me smiling, staring too long, curious, shameless, challenging, when we first meet.
I love you every Friday when you’re driving all the way back from Lincoln and arrive at my door, sedate from a long week, relieved to be alive again, on real time, our weekend time.
I love you in twenty years’ time, in our cosy house in the country, our children making us pictures out of pasta and our big affectionate dog eating things it shouldn’t when we’re not looking, you sharing looks with me that only we understand the depth of.
I love you when you are fourteen, a wild child, living adventures, loving your friends, experimenting and playing, living by your heart, your own truth.
I love you in your barest, stripped state. Your vulnerability does things inside my head you wouldn’t imagine to look at my calm face. It takes my breath away to see you in your full glory. Because you are one beautiful man.
I love you brushing your teeth in the next room, using my toothbrush or yours, checking your hair, washing your face, doing whatever you do behind that door.
I love you as I sit here searching for others’ perfected wisdoms on love to share with you when they are full of both beauty and relevance. Only the best will do for you, and I want to make sure I cover all bases with my own humble letters and with the words of more important souls.
I love you buying me thoughtful presents for our first special occasion together, thinking, worrying, fetching, making sure everything was as it should be.
I love you last night making love to me so tenderly after telling me adoring words and beaming appreciation at me all night long, making me feel love, love, love and happiness. And thankfulness.
I love you then and always.