What smells so good in here? Hugh asks as he walks into our bedroom
today after work, making his way to me through piles of books
by my bedside and kissing me on the forehead.
I return the kiss and shrug.
“Must be my little bloom,” he says, pulling the satin
covers snug around my neck and closing the blinds
to shade me from the sun.
No knowledge of why his wife is in bed at 5:30pm.
No critique. No concern about dinner or disarray.
Just consideration and care for me.
And oh how I love him.
My husband with his never-ending tenderness.
My husband with the sweetest of eyes.
My husband whose constant attention
is on the needs of others always. Always.
May the fragrance of our love
bloom and grow forever, mon ami.