1. You like your coffee black, with just a sprinkle of sugar. No cream. Once you tried drinking a blend from India I found at the supermarket, but you told me that you preferred your coffee to have grits, thick and dark that coat the back of your throat when they go down. So I took the cup for myself and made you a pot of Folgers.
2. When you read, and are entranced by the words, your eyebrows scrunch together like the back of a caterpillar and you always rest your hand on your chin.
3. When you read you have a tendency to fall asleep and drool on the pages. I can’t tell you how many books in the Bunker’s library I’ve had to wipe drool off of or rip out ruined pages because of your spit. It’s a good thing I adore you.
4. You usually sleep on your back, it’s easier to defend yourself if you are attacked that way. But with me you sleep on your stomach, or curled up against my chest, breath warm on my neck. I like that you are comfortable with me. I know how hard it is for you to let yourself go.
5. The brief moments you do let yourself go are rare. I cherish them.
6. You always say my name when you come.
7. You are fascinated with my hands, all the things they can do, have done, and will do. I love when you kiss my fingertips.
8. You get this look of unfettered joy on your face whenever you cook for Sam and I. I don’t know if this joy is because you are happy doing something for us, or you simply enjoy the routine activity. I haven’t asked and I won’t, as long as you are doing something that makes you happy I don’t care the reason.
9. You love your brother with every fiber of your being; you love me with your entire soul. I often wonder how you manage to love the both of us and have any love left.
10. You love without reserve, and so do I. How could I not?
11. You only stay in hotels that cost less than $69 dollars a night. It was an inside joke between you and Sam for years until I finally understood.
12. You make a lot of jokes, some are funny and some really aren’t. I laugh at them all.
13. You hate cherry pie. I’m still shocked about this one.
14. You won’t eat apples but you will eat an entire apple pie if given the chance. I will never understand the difference, it’s all apples to me.
15. You love all Impalas before 1967, but hate all the ones that came after. “Copycats,” you called them. I can’t say I blame you.
16. You’re proud of Sam for graduating college this summer. You cried at the ceremony. I did too.
17. You love sacrilege and angels. I think that’s partly why you married me.
18. Sometime after Purgatory you told me you hated Bed & Breakfast places. “Too frilly, and too honeymoon-y,” is what you said. But somehow I managed to convince you to stay in one on our wedding night. I didn’t hear any complaints, so I am starting to doubt that you hate them as much as you say you do.
19. You cried the first time we had sex, burying your head in the pillow and hiding your tear-stained face from my eyes. The Mark burned on your arm, and I cradled your head in my hands. Later you told me it was the first time you had felt anything in over a year and I vowed to make sure you would never have to suffer again. I think I succeeded.
20. Tomorrow is our first anniversary and you are finally at peace. You are currently curled up in our bed, hands splayed wide and relaxed on the pillow, even in your sleep reaching for me.
21. You don’t say “I love you,” often, but you don’t need to. Every caress of your hands, touch of your mouth, and crinkly-eyed smile is all the “I love you,” I need.