Books have this distinct ability to draw an automatic connection between two people. It’s kind of like the “smokers” section… but way cooler. I’m beginning to discover that if I’m meeting someone for the first time and we can find a mutual interest in a particular book we’ve read, it’s an automatic jumpstart on the relationship. 

This year I’m celebrating another Valentine’s Day without you, but I cannot wait to spend a lifetime of them with you in our future. I imagine waking up next to you on this special day and thanking God.  I will thank him for every year I woke up alone because it was that time that he was preparing us both. I will look over at you while you are still sleeping but I say a quick prayer over you.

I usually meet that comment with my normal eye roll and a fake chuckle. I’m so used to hearing it now that I’ve actually thrown out my entire defense.  I’m sad to admit that as much as I hate that “picky” label, I just quietly accept it.  I’m told my tastes will mature as I get older. I won’t care about things as frivolous as clean sneakers or how he says goodbye when he hangs up the phone.