I love him. I love him more today, after 17 years together and nearly 15 years married to each other and three children and a host of ups and downs, I love him more. I love him for the father that he is, for the friend that he is, for the lover that he is. I love him for the way he thinks of us, his family, first. I love him for how he provides for us. I love him for the way he does small things for me like make coffee each morning so it's there when I come downstairs. I love him for making me laugh when I feel like crying and for having the wicked sense of humor that he has. I love him for his thick, wavy hair with just a touch of gray in it. I love him for growing a beard just for me. I love him for reaching across the bed in the middle of the night to touch my back or shoulder. I love him for always being there, no matter what. I love him for staying beside me when I've been at my worst and I love him for still loving me even though he's seen me at my worst. And believe me, it's pretty bad! I love him for making huge, difficult changes because he loves us that much. I love him for the great sex but mostly I love him because he's my best friend.