Sometimes hidden from me
In daily custom and in trust,
So that I live by you unaware,
As by the beating of my heart,
Suddenly you flare in my sight,
A wild rose blooming at the edge
Of thicket, grace and light
Where yesterday was only shade,
And once again I am blessed, choosing
Again what I chose before.
--The Wild Rose by Wendell Berry
What I mean is that I've learned to not assume. I used to be a professional assumer, sponsored by raw emotion and it's-not-love-if-he-doesn't-read-my-mind. Somewhere along the line I discovered that if I needed something from him, I should just say it directly and without emotion. Simple yet revolutionary.
After almost 14 years of marriage, I live by him in profound contentment. We are, and it seems that we've always been. While I used to assume he would know what I wanted by reading my mind, now, too often I assume he knows how I feel about him. I wash his underwear, after all. How could he not know?
But then he flares up in my sight, and I see him clearly. All I can do is marvel: this is the man I am married to? This is the man who chose me? He amazes me in how he moves about life, and he blesses me by how he cares for me and for our boys. I see him for the first time again, and in my mind I choose him all over again.
But he doesn't see how he's in my sights. He doesn't know that I'm choosing him all over again. He doesn't know how much I love him.
Unless I tell him.