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I love you.
I, me……maybe other people love you too. Maybe hundreds of people or maybe I am the only one, But the point is I want you to know that it is me…Jan ….who loves you. I don’t love easily but I think that I love pretty well. And I don’t say those words lightly. Other people love French fries, or movies, or Ted Lasso or chocolate. They love jazz, Christmas trees, tacos and sunrises. Puppies, San Francisco, and Paris in the Spring. But not me…..Jan. I only love you

I love you.

I don’t like you, tolerate you, admire you, adore you, or enjoy you. I simply love you. Your friends, your other lovers, they may enjoy, prefer or crave you. But only I love you.

I love you.

I don’t love my old worn jeans, my battered lucky suitcase with the 10 year old Camino sticker. I don’t love carrot cake, chicken enchiladas, or my friend Marian whom I can tell anything to. ( Well, maybe I love her a tiny bit) But not the way I love you. I love everything about you and everything that is part of you…..your gentle spirit, your fierce intelligence, the piece of hair that always falls in your face, the way you yawn, the way you sleep. I love you.