(305//365) Do you remember the first time I told you I loved you, sweetpea? I meant every word of that sentence. I meant it with every force within me that propels me forward. I meant it with the self same honesty and intention I feel when I hold your jaw in the palm of my hand, when I get my fingers tangled in yours and when I touch my lips to your earlobe. But here's this, sweetpea: I never thought I could love you more. And yet, with every new day I do. I love you more when you make me coffee every day because I can never get it just right. I love you more when we finally meet in the evening and you say "I missed you so much today." (I miss you everyday.) I love you more when you read to me (oh, that accent), when you put your arms around me and squeeze, when you clean out the litterbox and vacuum because you got home first or because I just forgot or because just because. I love you more when you cook me delicious meals, when you take me to the cemetery to watch the sunset from a beautiful and quiet place and when you take care of me when I get too wrapped up in my homework or photography or writing to take care of myself. I love you more for spending your evenings by my side, for everything you want to help me with and every problem you want to solve. I love you more for your silly jokes and that way you make me laugh. I love you more for everything that you are and everything that you motivate me to be.
I don't think I could love you any more than I do this second, sweetpea, but somehow I know, tomorrow, I'll love you more.