I woke up remembering someone in my dream telling me, “Even on his worst day, he has 60% more heart than most men.” That couldn’t be more true. Unless, it was 75%. Because of the many things I adore about Mr. Darcy, I have to rank his big heart at the top.
Here’s a smattering:
his big, easy laugh, the way his eyes squint up when he smiles, how sweet he is to Dot & Dash calling them nicknames and letting them knead his belly as we sit on the couch, his willingness to push through hard stuff, his unflinching generosity, the way he looks at me like I am the only girl in the room, his steadiness, his sharp wit, his whip smart intelligence, his enjoyment of my family, his closeness to his family, his playfulness, his ability to sleep and sleep some more, his depth, his incredible artistic talent, how he shows up for me repeatedly, how I never have to ask him to do stuff like help around the apartment because he just does it, his protective vigilance of my heart.
In a nutshell, he’s excels at loving me. I hope he feels I do the same for him.
I could imagine my life without him. But the thing is, I don’t want to.