Even though I probably don’t say it often enough, you know I love you, right?

I know we’re supposed to say it, out loud, let it be known verbally. Songs tell us, movies tell us, books tell us. They all convey how we should tell the people we love that we love them.

But why aren’t actions enough?

I know you love me.
When was the last time you told me? Out loud?
See?

But I know.

I know because you tell me all the time. Through the things you do.

You make me laugh! Oh boy, and who doesn’t love to laugh?
It’s no secret that humor keeps us sane. Some days, you are directly responsible for my sanity. And my arrest-free record.

And thank you for laughing at me, too.
For me, with me, at me, it’s all therapeutic.
And grounding.

I really appreciate the interest you take in my family, my adults and Dave. They’re good! One married, one almost married and one fully recuperated from surgery but now suffering from a tennis injury, poor guy. Thanks for asking.

I’m grateful that you get me. That you know what it’s like to get old! (Gees, this sucks.)
You understand how to be creative, take classes, work, be in a relationship, raise kids, have pets, clean a home, commit to something when you know better…

You make time for me, whether it’s a quick text or an email, FB message or phone call.

We’re all busy! I respect your “busy,” I don’t take it personally, but it makes me value our time together all the more. Even if it’s just sitting in a coffee shop between errands, or actually running errands together. Time with you is always a treat.

Whether we see each other often or rarely, have known each other forever or recently, it’s always exciting to catch up. To share.

We may not always see eye to eye and sometimes I can’t help but question your life’s decisions. But through our differences, you help me grow. It’s edifying to get a glimpse of the world through your eyes. Your perspective widens mine. Your experiences challenge my known.

Everyone needs an occasional partner in crime. I’ve got your back if you got the getaway car! (I am so used to emoticons, it kills me that I can’t winky-smile in this blog right now.)

I am grateful for your support in the wacky things I attempt. Like writing. That you take me seriously helps me take me seriously.

You recognize my strengths when I don’t and never let me wallow. You have supported me in a thousand little ways and just as many big ones.

I need someone to tell me when there’s spinach in my teeth. And to not tell me if these jeans make my butt look big. Of course they make my butt look big, my butt is big!

(It’s nice that you don’t hold that against me.)
Thank you for your honesty. And discretion.

It’s wonderful that we can discuss anything. And everything. Or nothing.

Life is unfair and sometimes passes out more than our share of sadness. Your heartaches have been my heartaches. Having you in my life has helped me recognize the good things, the better than the bad things.
And your successes are my successes. To be able to share in your accomplishments– and you are amazing— is a blessing.
The good, the bad, the uphill and the flow, they’ve all made you who you are and I love that person.
I admire that person.
I respect you.
Your strength and insight, resilience and faith are remarkable.

I’m very proud of you.

They haven’t perfected the reflective pixel yet, but when they do, I’ll be sure and update this blog. So you know it IS you I’m writing to. It IS you I love.

To borrow from Sir Elton, I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words, how wonderful life is with you in the world.

So, there. I’ve written it. I love you. I hope you know it even if I don’t say it out loud as much as I probably should.