I remember vividly the first time you turned me on. You were on the dance floor at your high school homecoming that my girlfriend and I crashed. You were wearing a deep red button up and a black tie and your body was moving in time with the beat. Your hips swished perfectly along with your hair. I remember thinking, “He’s probably a senior and I haven’t got a chance.”
I remember the butterflies that filled my stomach as I heard the straight pipes on your jacked up GMC truck miles before my eyes could see it creeping down my drive. I can still see you lifting up that center console as I climbed in and got as close to you as I could without sitting entirely in your lap.
But Babe, butterflies are fragile and fireworks burn out quick. The hair doesn’t swoosh anymore and very rarely do your hips. The truck has been sold but I want to tell you this.
You still turn me on.
Not in the fleeting way that those things offered or of fire coursing my veins at the touch of your hand but in a lasting way where I never want to let go of your hand.
Because my sweet lover, it’s not your truck that turns me on.
As we have matured in body and spirit the things that drive me wild aren’t the temporary things of past.
I love to dance with you but I love when you dance with our children more…
I love to talk with you and glean from your advance knowledge, but I love it when you talk and teach our children more…
I love how much you love our Lord…
Yet just when I think I couldn’t love you more, you guide our children in loving our Lord…
I love to play fight and rough house with you, even though you never let me win; unless I get an armpit or hip shot. But I love when you play with our children even more…
As much as I thought I would love to hold all your attention, I find I love it more when you give it to our children…
And I wish it was just those things that drove me wild because those moments are mostly confined to the walls of our home.
But Babe, that isn’t all that turns me on.
When you converse with the lonely elderly man in the grocery aisle, not only do you make him feel important, you make me feel so special because I have found such an awesome human being to do life with.
When you acknowledge the baby throwing their tiny head back in their highchair with the new parents shrinking in embarrassment across the restaurant; you comfort them with kind, funny words and talk to the baby making her calm down in curiosity. All the while, turning me up.
When, with a strong and sure voice you give godly marriage and parenting advice to a struggling father. It’s as if you’re whispering sweet nothings into my ear.
When you boldly stand up for me, unwavering, for what is right and true. I see you declaring for the whole world to hear, “I LOVE YOU.”
Hands that were quick to fight on old back country roads now shake with others in search of peace.
Broad shoulders and boulders for biceps that used to be intimidating to others now the most comforting place to cry and be held.
A mouth that would make a sailor cower now makes a stranger smile.
And a love for me so stable and sure.
Though we started out shakey and immature, look at us now Babe, with a love so pure and mature.
One thought on “To My Lover: It’s Not Your Truck That Turns Me On.”
This made me cry, it is so amazing and sweet. I want to save this blog post forever. SO SWEET!!!!