I got lucky.

What I mean is, I married the right guy.

I married the guy who lets me speak first during an argument. Even if that means I’m yelling. I married the guy who’s patient, loving, and more importantly — knows how to make my coffee. Just the way I like. I married the kind of guy you want to bring home to meet your family. The one you eventually want to make one with. The guy I want my son to look like. Be like. The kind I want my daughter to one day marry.

And regardless of our schedules and daily demands as parents, we have the same routine. After the kids are asleep, the laundry is folded, and the house is quiet. After we talk about our day, plan for the next, and wish for the weekend. He walks me to the bedroom, whispers ‘I love you’ through a kiss.

And then—

He tucks me in.

I don’t know when it started, exactly. Or how it came about. But I do know it makes me feel cared for.

Appreciated.

Seen.

He knows how much I give all day. And just how little can be left. He knows that sometimes I need to be reminded why I love him. That we’re lucky. And that this marriage is a choice. He reminds me to be grateful for this beautiful, messy life we have created. The healthy children that we share.

And every night before closing the door, through sleepy eyes, he looks at me. The way that only he can. And that’s when I remember why.

Every day, I choose him.

Because every night, he tucks me in.

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