glarb?

This is what time it was when I turned out the light in the bedroom and hopped in the car with the Man to take him to the airport. He has a meeting somewhere near Newark today.

This is what love is. It's not a feeling in your stomach when you kiss, it's not thinking about the other person all the time. It's not dinners on the town smiling dopily at each other. That's all nice, but real love is getting up and throwing on some clothes before you can even think straight and grabbing your keys and driving to the airport at dark o'clock. And still really liking that person even though you're up and it's so eeeaaarly. But you're just chatting along the way. And looking forward to seeing him again later after he comes back and you're done with rehearsal so that you can probably just fall into bed together because cripes! It's already 11pm and you have more stuff to do tomorrow. So all of that: that's love right now. It's the little things we're doing for each other every day.

Did that make sense? If not, I apologize. My excuse lies in that picture above...