We Are the Normal Ones: Memoirs of a Fallen Human

A Husband's Memoir

I say I love you. More than she says it. She wasn't romantic. I don't mind. When I say it she just smiles at me. She smiles with everything, though. She smiles with her lips, her eyes, her nose... her heart, her breaths. She looks at me and soaks in my "I love you's".
Each time.
Once I confess, and I will continue to confess to her, she doesn't break eye contact with me until she's satisfied that I heard her smile. Her response to my affection.
Her heart smiles were my favorite. When she did say "I love you", I knew they had the backing and strength of two thousand bull sharks because man when she loved, she loved hard. Me, her family and her extended family that were once just friends but upgraded to have a place in her heart, she loved with a gentle aggression.
I love my wife.
A lot.
But she loves so much more. I want to match her. Then exceed her so that she'll never doubt the wonderful being that she is. Because that wonderful tulip that she is flourishes in the most purest way.
However, everyone can see it but her.
If I reflect her actions the same way she shares her heart with others, then maybe she get a glimpse of the woman she is.
The woman I love.
I need a word bigger than love.
But I guess that's what she is.
She's my word that's bigger than love itself.