As I prepare for my life with FLH, I am very aware of the pleasure and fulfillment I find in the little tasks that involve taking care of him.

Today, I picked up the overabundance of shirts I’d left at the dry cleaner. Some of them he’d left here, and others were part of the extravagant birthday gifts I’d gotten to mark this first birthday reunion. And maybe, in part, to make up for the 30 birthdays we weren’t together.

I loved the act of picking them up, hanging them on the leather hand-grip in the back seat of my car (there were so many they didn’t fit the hook). When I got home, I hung them carefully in what’s become his part of a closet, along with one of his fish shirts, several polos, two blazers, a dress shirt and other clothes that mark his presence in my life.

Scraps of notepaper with recipes and shopping lists litter the dining room table. They remind me that my life is now very different. A good kind of different. Since we talk so often, I’ve made careful note of the foods he says he likes to eat, and I’ve already done some menu planning for the week he’ll be here next month.

This morning, our trainer and I were talking about the food I planned to prepare during FLH’s visit. When I talked about sweet potatoes, he asked what I put on them. “Nothing,” I said. “They’re delicious by themselves.” He nodded approvingly.

When I told him I bought low sodium black beans, he approved and told me to rinse them anyway before preparing.

We talked about whole grain breads, grains, fruits and how I prepared vegetables. He couldn’t catch me on anything.

Finally, he asked if I were getting in enough water. I told him that I was making iced green tea and having that for half my water.

“Is it a mix?” he asked.

“I brew it from teabags,” I responded.

He broke out in a huge grin and put his arm around me in a little hug.

“You are going to be the best wife,” he said with that grin. He paused, then winked. “Again.”