Wife, you are remarkable.

You put up with my ridiculousness, and you still come back for more... like some lovesick Labrador.

Your lips taste like the rainbow. Forget Skittles. Kissing you is like opening a twin pack of Starburst and both of them being red. Or pink. Or one red and one pink. And while that's my favorite combination, you have always been more fond of yellow which might explain why you're fond of me.

You can keep a manicure looking nice for weeks. And you do the dishes with your hands... wash the laundry with your hands... help our son tie his shoes with your hands...

You fight off all of my inner demons with your hands.

You would be able to keep a pedicure looking nice for weeks, but sometimes you like to dig your nails into me "on accident" when we're lying in bed. And you're trying to keep your feet warm.

Before you found me, I was merely a tree stump.

You see, I once gave a woman all of my branches...

and she hung from them with carelessness.

She ripped the flowers from my leaves and made wishes on their petals like it wasn't supposed to hurt.

She had carved our names into the trunk of me, and before you came along, I had self-severed the memories of her and me. Leaving just this stump.

And while stumps can come back to be viable trees, they are far weaker than before.

I am far weaker than before.

And I fear carving any name into me, if God blesses me once again with a full trunk.

I made a vow to you, even though I'm deathly afraid of being in love.

You see, I don't have a perfect history with trees. I fell out of one once, and it broke my entire soul. Shattered me into pieces and I've never been the same since.

My family tree is unsteady, and the fruit it prospers is bitter and bruised.

So this innate fear of trusting anyone out on these limbs again, makes me shake in my roots.

But you have gentle hands like my mother used to.

See she could hold anything and make it appear as porcelain with how careful she caressed. And nobody ever held my heart quite so delicately.

And as forceful as you barged into my world, your hands were as tender as petals on lilies.

So as my trunk begins to sprout branches and as those branches start to bring leaves, I find that maybe I'll let you climb this tattered existence that is my heart. And perhaps you'll take a risk and find yourself clinging to my limbs.

Touching the petals of the flowers as delicately as my mother's hands caressed my mind. As softly as my mother's words molded my being.

And when the time comes, we will find ourselves once again at the trunk... and you will carve your name into me with beautifully manicured hands. And you'll tell me that my kisses taste like yellow Starburst and everything you've ever loved about nature.