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| We just can't stop talking. |
I cannot read a book around my husband. I can hold a book
open, and look at it, but every few sentences, Billy will have something new to
tell me. After he interrupts me enough
times, I give up and chat with him instead. I don’t mind.
Billy would tell this story the other way around, and that’s
fair. I’m usually bursting with things to tell him, too. This is most evident
in the morning. I wake up before he does, and somehow, I’m always dying to tell
him about my dreams, how I slept, and everything I have to do that day.
I try my hardest not to unload my thoughts on Billy until
he’s ready. I wait until he initiates conversation with me. This is what I call
“opening the floodgates.”
“Morning,” he’ll mumble from his pillow.
This is my cue to tell him all the thoughts I’ve been
holding in since we went to bed.
Even when we’re apart, Billy and I tend to tell each other
everything. We text each other — a lot. Friends are used to watching me send
him pictures of my food and updates about where I am and what's going on. I try to be discreet
about it, but if something funny happens, I can’t resist texting Billy the
play-by-play.
To be honest, this is what I love most about him. I love his
earnest, undivided attention. And I love being the person who gets an unfiltered
gaze into his wondrous brain. I was lucky to marry a man who is smart, funny, creative,
and wildly unpredictable. His train of thought blazes like wildfire, moving
from topic to topic and veering into unexpected directions. Or maybe he’s more
like an iPod on shuffle — constantly streaming new songs and new ideas into my
eager ears.
I like to think that I keep him on track. When he careens down a path of self-doubt, I reel him back in. And when I need reassurance, a laugh, a fresh perspective, or just a place to put my wandering thoughts, he never leaves me hanging.
Some couples have comfortable silence. Billy and I have
comfortable incessant chatter.
May he never run out of things to tell me.
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