"He's shouting quite a lot" she said quietly. "He swears under his breath. He gives me no support. Our home is not a happy place at the moment."
I looked at my friend whose sadness had settled on her and sucked the joy from her cheeks and all I could think was just how lucky I was.
Because my husband never shouts and he never swears under his breath. He gives me unending support. In fact, he is something of a saint.
And even though I sometimes shout a little and swear under my breath (I am no saint, and sometimes life is hard, even when you're married to one,) I can honestly say that our home is a happy place.
A place full of laughter where kisses and cuddles, tickles and snuggles are given and shared three ways. A place full of silliness and craziness and good romping fun. A messy, half-built sort of place, where nothing is quite as it should be, but where we smile and work and play through all the mess together.
Many times I take this togetherness for granted. Many times, I fail to notice it at all. But this Valentines day, when my husband came home with flowers and chocolates and made us all smile, just as he always does, I took a moment to notice. I took a moment to say thank you. I took a moment to remember just how lucky I am.