I will wake up about thirty minutes before you. Walking down the hall, I will glance back at your slumbering body and I say to myself, "How did I ever get so lucky to be with you?"
Careful not to make too much noise, I pull out skillets from our cupboards and eggs from the refrigerator. I am a great cook so I start to whip together the perfect egg omlette. As I cook your breakfast, I hear a noise behind me and your arms wrap around me in a tender embrace.
"Good morning," you say.
I reply with a kiss.
"Please, no bacon this time," he implores as he grabs a cup of orange juice. "You now I can't stand it."
I smile at his picky eating habits and hand him his omlette.
"There's bacon in this."
"No," I say. "There isn't."
He looks me in the eye and says, "How did I ever get so lucky to be with you?"
My friends call me a hopeless romantic. Maybe I am. I am one of those people who believes that there is true love in the world, and that love should and can be experienced by anyone who pursues it. I am looking for that love.
I wonder if I will ever find it?
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