Carlos

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Carlos. I first heard his name over loud music in a crowded bar in Dublin. I could never have imagined that he would be the person I fell in love with, my boyfriend, then fiance, then husband.

After we got married, I wondered what Carlos would come to mean. Would he always be just “husband?” Nothing more, nothing less, simply “a male partner in a marriage“?

Yet Carlos has come to mean many more things. He hasn’t become the perfect husband, but he has become a model husband. He’s become the person who’s most capable of hurting me, yes, but also the one who loves me the most.

He’s become the person who sweeps, mops, and alternates cooking and washing the dishes with me.

He’s become a good listener when I’m sad and need someone to talk to.

The one who tried for hours on Thursday to figure out why we didn’t have water and made multiple trips to the roof and uninstalled pipes in the process.

He’s become someone who supports me when he knows I’m right and the one who has gently corrected me when I’m wrong.

Carlos has become the best example of sacrificial love I have ever seen. In our 18-plus months of marriage, I have been selfish, anxious, controlling, impatient, and countless other negative qualities I am asking God for help with. And he hasn’t left. Far from it-he says he’s happy. That I make him happy. That he likes being married to me, flaws and all (insert jaw drop, I know).

Carlos hasn’t become my everything, but he has become a lot of things. So many things that, when I refer to my “husband” in conversation with someone else, it seems wholly inadequate. I think back to the night in the bar in Dublin, and I can’t help but smile. Carlos. Who knew that one name could mean so much?

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