I am a music lover. In the house, in the car, singing even when my parents finally had to ask me if I could maybe just give it a little break after hours of me doing it. Lyrics are my favorite, as can be evidenced by my quoting them everywhere. But, I believe there’s reason for the effect music has on us. It moves into our hearts and minds in a way that most things cannot. It brings an understanding of our feelings and allows us to accept that when things hurt, or are fun, or are scary, that we aren’t the only ones in the world experiencing that as well. Many times in ways humans cannot. Many times in ways that remind us of what humans have done for us.

Today I was listening to my all time favorite songs on Spotify (there are like…400 of them) while thinking that three years ago this week Ray was planning to propose to me, and it reminded me of the goodness of this man in my life. He is my absolute best friend and makes me laugh more than anyone. He takes care of me and my amputee life in a very unique way, and adventures with me literally anywhere. But, what is most special about him is the moments he is there to see and hold my rare, vulnerable times.

I don’t choose to not be vulnerable most of the time. It’s just that in most parts of life I assume (and enjoy) leadership roles, and don’t like to focus on my own feelings (which has its pros and cons) in those spaces. But in the confines of our homes (or wherever we feel at home) we are all vulnerable, because we need a place to be. All that to say, when tears do come to my eyes, there is usually big reasons for it.

Children with cancer. Some extreme frustration with my prosthetic. When someone is mistreated. Loss of something more valuable to me than my words can speak.

A few times in the past month he’s come home to me sitting silently working and thinking. He has this look that opens my heart up and makes it safe all at once. And with just a hug, there is a place to let my heart break. He knows where I’m coming from, believes in where I’m going, but is silent and steadfast when there is no right thing to say and nowhere specific to be. Sometimes the in-between is the place where we learn the most.

Today, specifically, I am happy he proposed three years ago this week. I am thankful he understands my heart and encourages the quiet parts so well, and I am so thankful that he is there when my heart breaks. I’m thankful someone else also knows what makes my heart break and I’m so thankful it will always be him.

Love you, husband.

Introspective song of the day:

…because love wins.