Of him.

Sometimes I don't think he sees me the way I see him. I can stare at him for hours. I can watch his hand as it touches the handle of a pot. I can watch his back muscle flex as he reaches up high to adjust the shower head. I can watch his toes grip his flip flops as he walks around the house. Shoot. I can watch stubble grow on his face. I never get tired of watching him. I notice everything. His veins, his fingernails. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm appreciative. Of him.