I’ve been with my husband fourteen years. We’ve been married for twelve of these years. We have this magical love that I’m compelled to write about. By day, I am “the professional”- I teach adults and children in different capacities. I’m a leader; I’m a regulator who is mostly black and white, by the book, straight-laced. I’m “forty- something”. I was born “forty-something”. I was grown and serious as a small child.

But …I’m a giddy, love-struck teenager when I get home from work each day. When I pull into the garage, sometimes I leave my purse, my portfolio, my coffee cup, everything in the car and run into the house to see my husband- to kiss him, to look into his eyes, breath his air, for one minute… to feel his strong embrace. Once my soul is steadied, we laugh together about how silly I am, how silly it is that I always do this. Then, I go back to the car and gather my things. When I get back in the house, I start fixing our dinner. During dinner preparation, I take lots of breaks and sit very close to him on the couch, he would say almost on him, while he watches television. We share lots of kisses during commercials. When dinner is ready, we pray then eat together, and study together (because we are both in school). Something during our study breaks, I’ll ask him to dance. He laughs…because he brings out the teenager in me. Paula S. and Sherman Newman Durham