Smooth Waters

This is the seventh poem in the All the Ways I Love You series—one poem a day as we count down to my husband’s birthday. Today’s is for the quiet sacrifices, the swallowed anger, and the love that keeps the waters calm because I needed peace.

You let them come—
because it was my money,
because I cried when Daddy’s Hands came on the radio,
because I still remembered the call-ins to Country 105,
tiny prayers disguised as song requests
sent out into the air,
hoping maybe he’d hear
and finally
see me.

He never did.
But you do.
You always have.

And even though the memory scorches you—
even though every lyric makes you ache for the little girl
who begged to be noticed—
you didn’t rage.
You held it.
Swallowed the fire
because you knew I needed water,
not flame.

He brought her with him.
Not in body,
but in venom.
Her bitterness on his breath,
her cruelty echoing off his tongue.
But it didn’t stick.

It just made her look small.
Ugly.
Everyone heard it—
the vitriol,
the rewrites,
her crimes he tried to paint over in charm.

But we were untouchable there.
That was as far as she could reach.

You smiled.
You listened.
You poured drinks,
you passed food,
you kept the peace.
Because I asked you to.

You let him stay.
Let him walk through our home.
Offered to have him back.
You even said he could stay longer—
all because you saw how badly I wanted it to be
easy.
Soft.
Simple.

And when he talked over me—
when he talked past me—
when he praised you for "being a man"
and never once asked what it means
to be a woman
building empires and still making dinner—
you burned.

You seethed.
Quietly.
Respectfully.
But I saw it.

You held your tongue
for me.
Just like I buried the ache
for me.

Because we know how to ride waves
without becoming them.
Because we love gently
even when it hurts.
Because peace
is sometimes a gift you give
even to the ones who don’t deserve it.

And in all of that—
in every silenced fury,
in every glance across the table,
in every moment you chose calm
over pride—

I felt loved.

More than he ever gave me.
More than he’ll ever understand.