Greetings,

Today, Oprah's show is entitled Appreciating Your Life, and as a tribute to her efforts, I begin today's entry with this quote:

If the only prayer you say in your life is 
"Thank You," it will be enough. 
~ Meister Eckhart, 13th century mystic

I have a great appreciation for life, but on this day before Thanksgiving, I am particularly thankful for my husband, DH.  

By streaming my thoughts, I'd like to put my gratitude down in words. Likely, it'll be effusive. Maybe sappy.  It might get sentimental. Even mushy.

You have been forewarned.

DH at the Bailey House Museum, Maui

Where do I begin?  How about with how we met?

It was one of those eyes-across-a-crowded room scenarios.  Except it was across a cafeteria table at Hilo College.  DH's crinkled, smiling eyes had an instantaneous and marked effect on me. I saw the kindness in them.

It was love at first sight. The sparks flew. There were fireworks.  My heart fibrillated. We'd never met, but I felt like I knew him from another time and place, so profound was the jolt of recognition. 

On our first date together, two days later, we clicked, connected on a soul level, and became a couple for life. Just being with him would stir remembrances that seemed ancestral, perhaps even encoded at the cellular level. 

Ours wasn't just a sudden romance, as we were separated for a year while I finished up my schooling, out-of-state and then on a different island.  During that time, we built our relationship on a solid foundation of friendship and respect. We were engaged the following summer. 

Now I'll try to describe him as I know him:

Suave and sophisticated? Flawless features?  Movie star good looks? Pierce Brosnan appeal? A charmer? A smooth operator? 

No.

Goodness. Caring and kind.  A one-woman man. Gentle, warm and compassionate.  Earthy and down-to-earth.  Tender.  A sweet boyish quality, with lots of strong masculinity underneath. Jackie Chan/ Yoyo Ma looks. 

Yes.

He is my ideal. My dreamboat. The pick of the crop. Top dog. The apple of my eye. The perfect husband, lover, and friend. 

Like me, he's born and bred Hawai`i. We are both "locals" from Hawai`i, first and foremost, with a deep love for America. Nurturing his Hawai`i roots, he never forgets where he came from. 

He has an understated attractiveness that rings my bell. At 5' 8", he is the perfect height for my 5' 2".  We are a perfect fit. He'll never need to get his teeth in perfect alignment. His looks and physique will never need to be liposuctioned, implanted, or altered by plastic surgery.  I like him just the way he is. 

Some guys have twinkles in their eyes, DH's crinkly eyes sparkle with kindness. He flirts with me incessantly with them and doesn't even know it.

He's dashing in a tux. Huggably teddy bearish in sweatshirts.  Charismatically sporting in his polo shirts and dockers.  Boyishly adorable in T-shirt, shorts and barefeet.  

His smile is like sunlight warming my soul.

I love his touch. I love touching him.  Whenever he's around I have to be touching him in some way, even if it's just the tips of our toes touching. 

I love his smell.  I love his hearty laugh. I love his sensuous lips. I love kissing his temples and nibbling his earlobes. I love how he marvels at the softess of my skin.

To me, he is tall, dark and handsome. Like fine wine, he is aging beautifully.  He is older and wiser.  A bit wider, but not by much, and still bounds with amazing energy.  

Thirty years after meeting him, I find him as captivating, appealing and sexy as when I met him and more. 

His greatest beauty emanates from within, from the soul. Self-effacing and good-hearted, he's a real, normal and approachable guy. His is a humble, modest, and somewhat shy demeanor.

He is proof that nice guys finish first. 

He's a giving husband with an outsize heart.  The glue that keeps us together is our mutual love and reciprocated respect. Easygoing, patient, and coolheaded, he's an intelligent mate. He has this marriage-enhancing routine down pat:  keep the mouth shut, nod sagely and let things simmer down first.

We like each other; moreover, we enjoy each other's company, more than any one else's. Often, our idea of a good time is stoking the home fires, alone with each other and the dog-kids. We relax with candles, baths, classical and Hawaiian music, films, and books.

Yet, we are not recluses either.  We enjoy socializing with family and friends at the sushi bar over a bottles of cold beer and sake in winter. Or having them over for intimate dinners.

DH's a devoted family man.  We, our dog-kids and I, come first in his book.  He is as involved with our dog-kids as I am, and ours is a close-knit, very loving family.  

We believe in God, not luck; good things come to those who work hard and deserve it.

When I was going through the most difficult times of my life, he stood by me and helped me to work my way through a mire of grief. 

I never hurt so acutely as when we were separated from each other for a week when I was tending to my ailing father.  I ached for DH, for his touch, for his smile.  I could picture him at home:  sitting in the house with our dogs, going to bed without me, going to work without a goodby kiss.  It made me so homesick.  Later, we compared notes, and indeed each of us felt as bereft as the other.

We've helped each other through the healing process of losing those dearest to us. With prayer and faith, we've sat together on that hard rock of pain, accepted it, and with time, moved out of it.  

"Above all, be grateful."
Sarah Ban Breathnach

DH is the most balanced person I know.  He'll never be accused of being a workaholic, yet he is productive.  He'll never run on fumes. Burnout doesn't happen to well-adjusted Type Bs.

We lead separate professional lives, but after work, we are basically inseparable.  We even came to Earth at about the same time; he is the elder by 20 days. Like old bedroom slippers, we are comfortable together.  Rodney King would be proud of us:  we get along. Home is wherever the other is. 

Beyond his home sphere, he exudes warmth to others as well.  He's thoughtful, treating others with courtesy and respect, and it's not an act. His students love him. His colleagues are lifetime friends.

Music-making is a tradition within his family. His grandfather was a guitar player.  His grandmother was a shamisen -- a Japanese stringed instrument -- player and teacher. His father plays his guitar daily and both his parents sing.  They gave him a deep appreciation for music. He is passionate with the guitar. When he's not playing music, he's researching guitars or window shopping for them on the 'Net.  

His guitar music is soulful, seductive and smooth as silk.  Modest and low-key, he plays to a one-person-two dog  audience.  Me and the dog-kids.. 

Among his many gifts, he has one that comes in particularly handy at home. He's an accomplished cook, and he dotes on me with his cooking. He knows the way into my heart, how to thrill me with food. 

Having someone cook exclusively for you is an enormously satisfying experience. He can make juicy ribs that make me suck my fingers. Every forkful of his spaghetti is a heavenly experience.

Entertaining friends and family is one of our favorite activities.  Always, he's the chef, and I'm the sous chef and clean-up crew.  The kitchen is his domain, and I like playing second fiddle in it.

We share many common loves, interests and beliefs:  We both love Disneyland. Avid nature lovers, we love being out-of-doors, gardening, and plants.  He twirls me around on the dance floor; he's my Fred and I, his Ginger. He's a natural athlete; I'm not, but he's a good sport, and we love to hike, bike and ski together. We pray together.

We bring out the best in each other. We're cautious not to take each other, our time together, or our love, for granted.  

"The deepest principle in human
nature is the craving to be appreciated."
~ William James

We freely express our gratitude to God and to one another for one another.  He does it with food.  I do it with words. Life doesn't get better than this, and we know it. We are living our dreams and our hearts' desires.

I can't wait for him to walk through the door to thank him myself.  I think I'll even let him read this...

Thank you, DH. You da' bes'.

"Life is a Gift."

Me ke Aloha pumehana,
Author Unknown

P.S.  If you would like to share a portion of yourself  with words, in response to this journal entry,  you may do it here.  

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