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It had been so long since I'd seen him. I changed clothes twice, just because I didn't know whether what I was wearing would be appropriate. My hair wasn't working, but does he really care what I look like? I remember how last time I visited, about six weeks ago, I cried. Cried.
I whispered all my shortcomings and struggles in his ear. I hurt him so much. And yet, he keeps loving me as if I am the only woman in the world. He likes me to visit more often, but life gets in the way and I, erroneously, think he is less important. And he just waits and loves me. He has everything. Is everything. And yet, he accepts my poor, humble offering of love with joy. During drive there today, I tried to formulate what I was going to say and how I was going to say it. "I have..." I grabbed the book as I stepped out of the car and heart pounding, walked up to the solid wooden doors, and pushed one open... To be continued...