Little things make the difference.

A couple of nights ago, I was checking my email or something and the phone rang the weird ring that meant the other handset was paging it. So, I answered it, knowing it was Johnny. "Could you come into the living room, please?" he asked in his romantic voice. I scurried down the hall and peeked around the corner and there he sat on a blanket he'd spread out with a bottle of sparkling cider and some nice cheese we'd gotten earlier. We watched an Act of Cyrano de Bergerac (with Derek Jacobi, a rare find but soooo worth it) and then we went to the grocery store to pick up some food. We decided to each choose an anniversary card and not let the other see it. We also bought some chocolate cake with caramel all over it. When we got home we each scuttled sneakily to our own corners and wrote as sappy a note inside as we could muster and then exchanged them and didn't bother to hide how misty we both got. Then we indulged in the cake with more cider and Cyrano. That's what my Johnny does that makes me fall in love more and more all the time. So many guys I dated were so self-centered they never cared about doing special things. But, Johnny gives just as much as he takes -- actually much more than he takes. He never expects anything, he never feels entitled. He's always trying to make me happy. Now I want to be sneaky, too, and make him feel special. I love that he still seems so surprised by how much I love him. It's so cute. I love even the weird little things. I love the way he scrapes his cereal bowl with his spoon until he's gotten every little grain of cereal. I love the random things he'll organize, like lining the gameboys up along the entertainment center. I love the snuggling noise he makes in his sleep when he's burying his head deeper into his pillow. I love how ticklish he is and that once you tickle him you can't touch him for like half an hour or he still bats at your hand. I love how much he softens around me; I just wish other people could see that side of him. I love that he lets me call him idiotic pet names, like puppybear. And I love that he'll smell candles with me when we're shopping. The little things are the most important to me because they're what memories are made of.
Anyway, I had to illustrate how wonderful he is again. He only has two workdays left and then we get him ready to go. Next week is our last week. It kills me one second at a time. I have no idea how I'll bear it. How can I? I'd better get a lot stronger a lot faster. I realize I've taken him for granted a little. I want to appreciate him like this always and never forget. Every second counts.