Wife Rule #78: Me Too

A few days ago, after an enjoyable date night out, we were finally winding down for the evening. In the rare case that we reach this point before our day's energy is utterly spent, it is one of my wife's favorite times to discuss family business--the type of business that requires either too much attention or secrecy to be discussed with children present.

Often our conversation focuses on the kids: recent happenings, current challenges, family interactions, and trying to understand their developmental needs. Sometimes during these precious moments of conscious child-rearing, we set goals and pledge to improve as parents.

That night the topic was of the happiest kind: a family road map between now and Christmas. We discussed our schedule for the upcoming holiday months a bit, our plans for our kids' Christmas presents and how we can make their sugarplum visions fit into our budget, and then rounded out the discussion with some really great potential plans for our parents' presents.

After an hour or so of lying next to each other on our bed, discussing such happy thoughts, my wife smiled at me with that soft, tender look in her eyes that has always melted my heart, and spoke with happy sincerity:

"I loved our date tonight. It was nice to get a babysitter and go out to dinner, and playing games afterwards was really fun too. But I had as much fun during the last hour, just lying here talking with you, as I had the rest of the night."

Me too, I thought, as she continued:

"When I was younger, I would imagine what it would be like to be in love and to be married someday. I imagined having my best friend always with me, sitting in bed at night together, and just talking."

Her words penetrated my heart as she spoke, her adoring gaze never leaving mine, so warm and filled with light shining out of the deep blue of her eyes. She then finished her verbal love note:

"I just want you to know that times like this, when we talk and plan our lives together, are just as happy as I ever imagined them to be. And being married to you is even better than I imagined marriage would be."

Sometimes the delivery of an expression of love is so near perfection that mind and senses are flooded, leaving the recipient a little incapacitated. All that still functions is the raw, honest, reflexive response that simply is what it is, without embellishment. This is the state I found myself in, after having the love of my life inform me that I had fulfilled some of her G-rated, adolescent fantasies of what being in love would be like--of having her describe to me the very feelings that I found in my heart at that moment.

All I could manage was a smile and a hug and a clumsy "Thank-you. Me too." I hope she sensed how much I appreciated her compliment and how reciprocal my feelings are.

Since then, I have not thought of any better way to respond other than the words that keep repeating themselves in my mind:

Me too, Sweetheart. Me too.