When your blue eyes close....

I really enjoy missing him sometimes.
It's an odd sort of feeling- missing someone you'll see tomorrow. But I enjoy it.
I find that these are the times when I remember so many little things that make me love him.
I couldn't list them all if I tried for a hundred years, and who would do that? Why would I waste a hundred years thinking about and describing a person when I could be enjoying them?
There is so much that I enjoy about him- a thousand facets of his personality and character, the way that he prays, the way that his smile springs from nowhere when he laughs and, like lightning, shoots from his eyes to his mouth through his entire being- and a hundred thousand other things that I hope no one ever notices but me.

This is just to say: I love him.
And there's a depth of meaning in that that I may never be able to express quite fully.