I do the dishes now but he loves me just the same as the days he was doing them.

Sunday is our 12th wedding anniversary.

Twelve years.

At year six, I never would have thought we'd see this day.

Never.

That was the year we filed for divorce.

We were done.

Through.

Finished.

Tired.

Over it.

It's not a time we talk about all that often.

But I know that as soon as we started the divorce process - I was sad.

Scared.

Lonely.

Regretful.

Miserable.

Wrong.

I'm sitting here trying to remember those days. They were dark days. As much I love summer, I often find myself in my darkest days during the most daylight filled hours of the year.

I'd lay in bed and try to think of all the things he did that annoyed me. Tried to justify why we were apart. I'd lay there and think I wasn't worthy of him anyhow. More justifying on my part. I'd think about how he'd brush my hair at night before we went to sleep. And I'd ache in my heart. I'd think about how he'd forgiven me for every wrong doing. And the tears would slide down my face and fall into my ears.

I'd think about his smile. His laugh. His hands. Oh, his hands. I'd think about his generosity. His desire to help anyone and everyone. Putting everyone before himself. Always.

I'd think of all the times he did the dishes. Washed his own clothes. Folded his own clothes and yes, put away his own clothes. He packed his own lunches. Made his own breakfast. And cleaned the house.

How in the world could he want me? Why in the world would he want me?

But he did. He does. For reasons that I'll never understand - this man loves me. He loved me then and he loves me now.

I'll never understand it.

However, I'll be forever grateful for it.

Happy Anniversary, love of my life. Thank you for loving me every day. Thank you for your patience with me as I continue to grow up. Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for the life you provide me. Thank you for understanding my addiction to Starbucks.

And thank you for brushing my hair at night.