Making Contact

After three point five children and nine years together, my love has finally gotten the message. 

I need to be touched. Hugged.  Loved.

I need affection to come in the form of physical contact.  From him.  Everyday.

It was during the preparations for our Easter Dinner that he finally got it.  I don't know what it was that I said but the message arrived loud an clear.  Somewhere between mashing the potatoes and icing the cupcakes, it clicked. 

He folded me into his arms and held me close.  He rubbed my back and kissed my forehead.  And he hasn't stopped. 

He makes a point to put his hand on my back when we pass in the kitchen.  He holds my hand as we lay on the couch covered in children.  He wraps his arms around me from behind while I scrub the lasagna pan. 

And for this affection, what is his reward?  For this affection I will give him clean bathrooms, and de-cluttered closets.  I will give him emptied dishwashers and folded clothing.  I will give him streak-free windows and a smile when I come home. 

I am happy and he is happy.  We are two shiny, happy people. 

All becuase of a little contact.