Dear Husband,
After a long day of marathon Christmas shopping and gift wrapping—the kitchen table still covered in forogtten scraps of paper and empty wine glasses—we headed to bed. You turned off the Christmas tree lights and dealt with the dogs while I checked on our sleeping children and made sure the house was locked. We were both exhausted from the crowds and you—more than me—were annoyed we skipped the gym to get our shopping done (well, mostly done). But as we laid down beside one another in the silence our dark room—beside you being the only time I’m comfortable in a dark room—you thanked me.
