I love talking with him. I guess he does too, because when I trained a class in Manila last year and was away for two weeks, he lamented that he missed me and had no one to talk to. I could really tell he meant what he said because he usually doesn't get all mushy and sappy. When he does, I know that he's not just being overly sensitive.
Our relationship was founded on conversation, after all. Our first 'date' was at the Shangri-La Mactan Resort and Spa. We took a walk down the beach and watched the stars. We ended up talking until the sun rose. Up to this day, we maintain that our first time to talk with each other was also the first time we - wait for it - fell in love.
We talk in whispers when the lights are out. We talk when we meet up during lunch hour to eat with each other at work. We talk over dinner with our daughter about how our respective days went.
We like taking a walk around our subdivision whenever we can just to talk and breathe in fresh air. We talk about home decorating ideas and what restaurant to try next. We talk about what happened on my commute to work that morning and the funny thing he saw on a YouTube video. We talk about the Scarborough Shoal dispute and the NBA.
We don't always talk with words, though. A look. A smile. A silly face. A wink. Yes, a wink.
The husband likes to hold my hand while he drives. He also sings. He ruffles my hair. I fix his collar. He loves it when I fold up the sleeves of his button-down shirts for work. Most often, he holds my hand. He kisses me. Yes, in public. When words don't suffice, we rely on non-verbal language.
There are also times we are just silent. We sit and simply bask in each other, and there are no words that come out. Sometimes, those also end up becoming really good conversations, too.
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