I Love You

I love you a bushel.  But just a bushel; I don’t love you a peck.  I don’t like telling you this, because I know that peck is important to you, but I can’t lie to you.  I mean, I love you a bushel.  A bushel is still a lot, right?  Do you really need that peck?

I know you do.  And I’m sorry.  I really am sorry.  If I could love you that additional peck, I would do it in a heartbeat, but I don’t think I’m capable of it.  I’m sure you know how hard even this much is for me.  I’ve never loved anyone a bushel before.  I mean, five or six gallons, sure.  Plenty of times, in fact.  But I’ve never reached a full bushel until you.

I hope you won’t begrudge me that peck.

Maybe you have a different idea on what a bushel is, precisely.  Maybe my bushel is larger than yours.  Maybe instead of these arbitrary measurements, I should tell you what I mean when I say that I love you a bushel.

I want to spend the rest of my life with you.  I want to see you every morning when I wake up, and every evening when I come home.  I don’t want a day to go by where I do not hear your voice.  You make me want to sing music.  You make me want to write music.  I’m a different person when I’m around you, and I like that person better.  And I wish the me that I am when I am around you is the only me that ever existed.

Whenever I’m near you, I want to wrap you up in a hug so that you will always be near me.  But a normal hug.  Around the shoulders, not around the neck.  I’m not sure why you like doing that so much, but I can’t handle it.  It’s something I’m willing to work on, though, if that’s what you need.

Because I love you a bushel.

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