Sometimes, my husband is scatterbrained.
Sometimes, he takes our camera and uses it at work and it makes me mad because I want it to take pics of Toph when I get home from work.
Kid is always doing something cute.
Sometimes, my husband forgets his keys in someone's car but doesn't realize it until 5:30 in the evening and I've got to drive across town to give him the spare key.
Sometimes, he's so immersed in what he's doing he forgets to call.
These are the little things.
He always bathes Toph at night.
He always rubs my feet (even on the days I wear my leather flats without socks).
He always kisses me good night.
He always shares his day with me, his thoughts, his feelings, his opinions.
He is always honest.
He always has a smile for me and Toph.
He tells me he loves me, multiple times, every day.
He shares his worries and fears with me.
These are the big things.
I was talking to a friend of mine who lost her husband.
She was serving in Iraq when she was informed of his terminal illness and she had to go home.
She told me yesterday how hard it is to parent her three children alone and how much she wishes for him.
She shared with me that on those phone calls to the homefront, she many times forgot to ask about him because she was so wrapped up in the welfare of her children.
She told me to never let the little things turn into the big things; little things are what made that person the person you love.
The little peccadilloes that make the imperfect person perfect for you.
(Loose quotation from Good Will Hunting.)
It's the big things that matter; it's the big things that count.
It's okay to let the little things bother you from time to time.
But not too much because you don't want them to grow and turn into