Texts to Send Him After a Long Day

The couch is yours. The remote is yours. I'm going to read in the bedroom so you don't have to talk.

I put your favorite hoodie on the back of the chair. Wear it, don't wear it. No pressure either way.

Dinner's in the fridge. Eat it whenever. Or don't. I won't ask.

I'm turning off my phone notifications for an hour. You do whatever you need. I'll be here when you resurface.

You don't have to tell me about your day. You don't have to smile. Just be here.

I ordered your go-to takeout. It's on the counter. Zero questions. Zero expectations.

I'm making tea. One cup or two, your choice. If you want to sit in silence, I'm good with that.

You don't have to tell me about it. I already know from the way you dropped your keys on the floor instead of the hook.

I see it in your shoulders—the way they're hunched like when you're bracing against the wind.

No need to talk. I'll just rest my hand between your shoulder blades and match my breathing to yours.

I made that chamomile tea you like, the one with the honey you pretend to hate.

You can leave your shoes by the door like you always do. I'll move them later.

I'm here. That's all. I already turned off your alarm for tomorrow.

The couch is yours—I even fluffed the cushion you always sink into.

I put a glass of water on your nightstand—the one with the chip from when you dropped it camping—so you don't have to get up.

Saved you the last piece of lasagna. I remembered how you closed your eyes when you first tasted it last Sunday.

Turned down your side of the bed and left the hoodie you wore when we got caught in the rain—it still smells like that night.

I dimmed the hallway light so you don't have to squint when you walk in. Like that night we camped in the living room.

I put your slippers by the door so you can kick off your shoes without bending down. You always leave them in the same spot.

I made sure the remote is on the armrest where you always look for it first. You never remember to check the cushion.

I filled up your water bottle and put it in the fridge so it's cold when you grab it. The blue one, not the green.

I set out your charger on the nightstand and plugged it in already. The cord is untangled, too.

I'm in the kitchen, not doing much. If you want to lean in the doorway, I'll just keep drying the spoons.

I put my hand on your spot on the couch and just sat for a minute. That's all.

I'm making tea. One mug or two, your choice. I'll be quiet either way.

I turned off the TV and just listened to the house settle. Feels like you're already home.

I'm sitting on the floor by the door, not waiting, just being. You can walk past me or sit down, I don't mind.

I left the porch light on and the door unlocked. Come in whenever, I'll be right here.

I'm lying on the rug in the dark, just breathing. You can join me or not, no pressure.

I put your favorite blanket on the armchair. It's yours tonight, no questions asked.

Remember that time you tried to assemble that bookshelf and ended up using it as a fort? That's the energy I'm sending you right now.

I just watched a video of a cat trying to catch a laser pointer and falling off a couch. It made me laugh, and I thought you might need that too.

If your brain is full of work stuff, I give you permission to replace it with the mental image of me attempting to cook and setting off the smoke alarm.

Let's pretend we're in a cheesy 90s movie and I'm about to say something ridiculous to make you smile. Ready? You're the human version of a weighted blanket.

I'm currently having a dance party with one sock on and a spatula as a microphone. You're invited, but only if you promise not to judge my moves.

The only thing on my agenda tonight is trying to beat your high score in that game we play. Consider this your official challenge.

I found a meme that is so stupid it's perfect for you. I'm saving it for when you're ready to laugh at something utterly pointless.

If you were here, I'd make you watch the most ridiculous reality TV show with me and we'd make up backstories for the contestants. That's my prescription for today.

I'm here on the couch, not saying a word. You can sit down and we'll just breathe together.

No need to talk about your day. I'll put on that show you like and we can just exist in the same space.

I made us tea and I'm going to sit here and read. You can join me or not, no pressure.

I turned off the lights in the living room and lit a candle. Come sit with me in the quiet.

I know you're tired. I'll just rest my hand on your knee and we can be still together.

I'm not going to ask how work was. I'm just going to put my head on your shoulder and let the silence hold us.

The only thing on your to-do list tonight is breathing. I've got the rest.

I turned off my ringer and put my phone face-down. You can do the same—I'll be here when you're ready.

The dishes can wait. The emails can wait. Right now, the only thing that matters is you letting your shoulders drop.

I'm making us tea and putting on that show you pretend to hate but always watch. No talking required.

I just fluffed your pillow and cracked the window a little. The bed is ready whenever you are.

You don't have to solve anything tonight. Just come home and let the quiet hold you.