When Wayne and I first met I found him absolutely fascinating.  He was tall, blond and had robin’s egg blue eyes I could melt in.  In addition he was smart and funny and he seemed to think I was beautiful.  Within a few weeks of our meeting I was convinced he was the one for me.  Sure enough, a year later we were man and wife.

I soon learned that what I felt for Wayne was only the first layer of what it means to love someone.  Love was nursing me through a bout of flu, or waiting 15 minutes longer after I assured him I was ready to leave but only had this one small thing I had to do.  Love was reaching for my hand during a scary part of a movie.  Love is finding a way to balance our monthly budget and still pay for Jenny Adele to take dancing classes.  It was driving Ted and Dale to their soccer practice after a long day working construction.  It was believing in me enough to say, “Write, Debbie, write, it’s what you’ve always wanted to do, isn’t it?”  That, my friends, is love.  Real love.