My love story is a simple one

I met my husband in September, 2004. We had two philosophy classes together, back to back on Monday nights. I know when I first saw him; I actually heard him first, and that made me lean forward in my seat to see who had such a great voice across the room. His voice was deep, intelligent, engaging and very pleasant. I could tell he was smiling when he spoke. He was asking or answering a question, he had a green shirt on, and when he used his hands to emphasize a point his biceps flexed… just sayin’. I thought he was too lovely for words, and I didn’t have any intention of ever trying to speak to him. I remember the first time he spoke to me, walking into that same class another night. He held the door for me and said, “Are you ready for four hours of philosophy?” If you know him, I’m sure you can imagine the big smile he gave to me as he said that. I say “gave” because it was a gift. He’s like a 6’3” walking ray of sunshine to me, and I’m addicted to that smile now. Thankfully, it’s usually already there, but I’ll do just about anything to keep it going – silly hats, tap dances, you name it. That’s my love story. Happy Valentine’s Day.