I love you for saying we can ask for help when it’s too much.

I love you for choosing to stay when the evening got hard.

You checked the door twice and then still worried; that small care is everything.

You tapped the rhythm on the counter while cooking and it made dinner lighter.

I love you for eating the burnt toast so I wouldn’t feel bad.

You folded the crumpled drawing into your pocket and looked proud; I loved that.

I love you when you whisper plans instead of announcing them; it feels private.

I love that you admitted you were scared and let me hold that.

I love you for the whispered encouragement you gave in the hallway today.

I love you for the way you check my messages before falling asleep.

You drew a crooked star on the homework and I loved that small rebellion.

I love you for holding my hand in the car at school pickup.

Your laugh when the baby sneezed is the best part of this evening.

You left your mug on the table again and it made me smile.

You humming that silly tune while washing dishes made the evening better.

Seeing you sip that chamomile at the sink made me calmer than I expected.

I hope you're settling in; I'm here if you want to talk.

I found the receipt from that terrible dinner and remembered us laughing.

I put your cold coffee in the microwave because you forgot it.

I saved the last cookie for you even though I was hungry.

I saw the playlist you sent and it fits this slow hour.

Holding my phone, I wanted to tell you one more thing: hi.

I left your note on the fridge where you'll see it tomorrow.

I tripped over the shoes you left by the door and smiled.

I sat under the kitchen light thinking about your hand on mine.

I want to say: I’m thinking of you right now, plain and simple.

I can’t stop smiling at the memory of your tired grin from today.

I’m staring at the empty chair and feeling oddly full of you.

I’m thinking about the smell of your coat and how it belongs here.

I noticed your nickname written on the napkin and it made my evening better.

I’m still chuckling at the thing you said when you spilled the beans.

I like that you leave the window cracked, even when I’d close it.

I almost called just to hear you answer the way you do.

I found a sock behind the sofa and it made me think of you.

There’s a smear of sauce on your mug and I’m tempted to photograph it.

I’m thinking about how you hum under your breath when you cook.

Your playlist is on and it makes the room feel less empty.

I’m holding my phone waiting for any excuse to talk to you.

I can’t stop picturing you folding that shirt the wrong way and smiling.

I want to tell you something small: your keychain jingles the way I like.