Normally I get my wife to proof read these posts. She likes to pick up my typos (although, as I type them up again I probably don't give a fair representation of her ability to spot my mistakes), but I also like her to read them through to ensure that I haven't been too obscure, self-indulgent or even narcissistic; and also because I want her opinion... cos' it's important.
As she drove off this morning the rosy fingers of dawn stretched over the close. The pink hue gave a glow and warmth to a freezing morning, and bathed her departure with poingance. On a day that heralds some of the worst weather the country has experienced, and a day that I (and many, many others before me) have often refered to as a Hallmark Holiday I thought this may be significant (- or coincidental, but today I'm going with significant), after all on Valentine's day the world was covered by a rose tint.
If I am naturally negative, brooding and introspective my wife has always been outlooking, warm and quick to see the best in the world. For many years I often used to claim she had a rosy vision of the world. But she is much more that this stereotype (aren't we all), and though the joy and love of the light was apt this morning, her favourite flowers are Cala-Lillies (and I'm not even going to pretend I've spelt that right) and here we get to her depths. These flowers are elegant in nature, sculpted and fragrent with pollen; they are controlled while those around them are erratic and chaos, but they contain passion within, and have a scent of depth and bass perfume; they are complexity in the guise of simplicity, and they are beautiful.
This is my wife - more than she seems and all that she seems; a paradox that moves quicksilver from innocence to experience, from joy to rage to laughter and off in so many directions. She is my critic and my support, certain and insecure, and most awake when she most craves sleep.
I'm not good at outpouring of emotion - too quick to irony and caustic comment, but without my wife I could not have found who I am, and could not be who I have become - for good or ill. I love her.
As the storm gathers I will cling to her the tighter and my joy will be that she clings back.