I immersed myself in my relationship with my husband, in little ways at first. Dutch would come home from his morning workout and Id bring him coffee as he stepped out of the shower. Hed slip into a crisp white shirt and dark slacks and run a little goop through his hair, and Id eye him in the mirror with desire and a sultry smile that he couldnt miss. Hed head to work and Id put a love note in his bagjust a line about how proud I was of him. How beautiful he was. How happy I was as his wife.Hed come home and cook dinner and instead of camping out in front of the TV while he fussed in the kitchen, Id keep him company at the kitchen table and wed talk about our days, about our future, about whatever came to mind. After dinner, hed clear the table and Id do the dishes, making sure to compliment him on the meal. On those weekends when hed head outside to mow the lawn, Id bring him an ice-cold beer. And, in those times when Dutch was in the mood and maybe I wasnt, well, I got in the mood and we had fun.As the weeks passed and I kept discovering little ways to open myself up to him, the most amazing thing happened. I found myself falling madly, deeply, passionately, head-over-heels in love with my husband. Id loved him as much as I thought I could love anybody before Id married him, but in treating him like my own personal Superman, I discovered how much of a superhero he actually was. How giving he was. How generous. How kind, caring, and considerate. How passionate. How loving. How genuinely good. And whatever wounds had never fully healed from my childhood finally, at long last, formed scar tissue. It was like being able to take a full breath of air for the first time in my life. It was transformative. And it likely would save our marriage, because, at some point, all that withholding wouldve turned a loving man bitter. On some level I think Id known that and yet Id needed my sister to point it out to me and help me change.Sometimes its good to have people in your life that know you better than you know yourself.