No big, show-offy gestures. Just a long list of tiny, meaningful ones. Just me and you, my love. You & M.E.
You made me breakfast in bed, because I was too weary to rise after a sleepless night. You came back from a walk bearing a tiny elm bough, plucked from a snowy hedge, bringing the outside in, because I was too poorly to leave the house.
You massaged my aching muscles. You held me close when the tiredness overwhelmed and the anxiety threatened to carry me away.
We're simple hearted folk. We don't celebrate Valentine's day. We don't even know the precise date of out first meeting, our first date or all those other firsts that seemed so important to my younger self.
I guard our precious memories fiercely in my heart's mind. When I'm afraid, worn out or downhearted, we take one out together, carefully unwrap it, admire and enjoy it from every angle with a whispered "Do you remember when...?"
We're not celebrating Valentine's day with pomp and circumstance. But you've been there for me when it matters, on a very poorly day, just like you always are.
*****
Joining in with the lovely Rachel and Faye to celebrate the love and support of the wonderful men in our (chronically ill) lives.
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Joining in with the lovely Rachel and Faye to celebrate the love and support of the wonderful men in our (chronically ill) lives.