jonno comes home from work, takes off his tie, plays with the cat… and begins telling me about the ducklings he watches every lunch hour down by the pond at his work. how he’s been watching these ducks mate, nest, hatch, and mature for more than a year now – that they’ve had two sets of ducklings that he’s watched grow into adulthood. he does an imitation of the fuzzy little birds wiggling their bottom, ducking under for food, paddling feverishly behind their mother. he speaks of them with gentle affection and humour.

all this is news to me. i never knew he spent every lunch hour going down to the pond, sitting and contemplating in the fresh air. he’s been doing this for over a year now, and never breathed a word – in all the times i’ve asked him about his work, he’s never once mentioned this quiet, private ritual of his day.

this is one of the small marvels of love – that every day, he continues to reveal facets of himself i have not yet seen, like unfolding petals. that i can continue to be surprised by this person i think i know so well. that i can be struck by the mystery that is this man i married. that he can let me in on intimate little secrets about his internal life that i never would have guessed.

that i can feel tenderness well up inside me, like a brave wondrous thing, new to the world again. that he can make me feel that way, all these years later.

it is nothing less than a miracle.

madness – it must be love

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