"I took her picture / but not of her face / 'cause I love her fingers / every wrinkle and trace. / She sighed when she saw it; / she said, 'They look old.' / And I said, 'Naw.'"
I was in the kitchen making dinner when I heard these words float into the air from the iPod dock speakers. I stopped cutting up carrots and just listened. I let the refrain wash over me: "I will love you for miles. I will love you for miles. I will love you for miles, until this road ends." I wiped my eyes and called my husband at work to ask him to come home right away.
Twenty minutes later, I watched from the kitchen window as Dusty pulled up on his bike. I heard the door open and Dusty's shoes fall onto the back door rug. I stood at the top step while he stood on the middle step so I could wrap my arms around his neck. "Hi," I said. "Come listen to this song. It made me miss you." He listened, a little puzzled about why it made me miss him. I reminded him of an incident from two weeks ago. He smiled and kissed the top of my head.
About two weeks ago, Dusty and I were watching TV together and I noted with some dismay how swollen my hands and feet had become. I sighed and said, "My fingers look like sausages, all fat and stumpy." And Dusty said, "Naw. They look like baby fingers, all chubby and cute. You're just trying to make sure Button doesn't feel weird about having chubby fingers. They'll look the same as Mama's." Then he kissed my hands.
Husband, I will love you for miles. I will love you for miles. I will love you for miles, until this road ends.
"I Will Love You for Miles" by Danny Michel