My love for my husband isn’t about flowers and candy on a particular day of the year. It’s about the surging ache I feel when we’re apart and I think of him. It’s about a random image, the shine of his hair, his voice, how he walks. It’s an act of affection toward our kids, an act of forgiveness for me, an act of generosity toward those lesser known. And it’s about him and me, together for 18 years. What happened during those years is sometimes a blur, but the gratitude…