I rip into the red envelope that is waiting for me at the breakfast table.
I slowly pull out the card. I open it and begin to savor the sweet words.
Tears form in the corners of my eyes like they always do, every time I read the words he has chosen for me.
I read it several times throughout the day.
He's at work but the words are right there speaking to me as I fold laundry, whispering to me as I wash breakfast dishes, singing to me as I make dinner.
The words are simple, not flowery. They are heartfelt, not insincere. They are true, not counterfeit.
They are powerful. And now they are mine.
I write the date on the back of the card, slowly return it to it's envelope and carefully place it in the large box with all of the others.