My wife. My love. My joy.

Seeing her in the office with confidence written all over her face impresses me.

She's in her element when she's allowed to talk meaningfully about helping students get a better head start than she had in elementary school. She isn't arguing. She isn't in distress. She's teaching, guiding, team leading and it shows. Her eyes are beautifully bright.

She is a practical woman. She enjoys nothing more then to gather all of the tools around her and plan for the day, the week, the year. Not just to stratagize, but brass-tacks, nuts-and-bolts kind of stuff. Her joy is contagious... and I can only see her through the office window. What a smile.

Even in a pinch, she's there with a grin, but, more than promised prayer on-the-run-out-the-door, she's real help and active practiced advice. She opens up her own resources and shares, without monetary or work-place political gain, anything anyone could need or want... or not even know they wanted until they brainstormed with her is theirs. Book sets on loan: Junie Bee, Deep Fried Worms, Forth Grade Nothing, you name it. Open door during breaks, after school, and in the hall, she's powerful grace in motion.

I trace her beauty in the lines of her dress as she moves toward the door to say hello and see just what I need while excusing the interruption to the others in the room. I love her.

I love the way she loves. I love the way she moves with grace, power, purpose, and an accepting knowledge of her own struggles past and present. Her eyes, her smile, herself. I can't believe she's mine to love in return.