Describing my husband as an author would

Back in February, my husband showed me a meme. It said, simply, “Describe me as an author would.”

Well, I guess that’s me. I’m kind of an author, so I should be an expert on things like this. I thought about it for a few minutes, then gave it a try, sending him back several paragraphs that I felt described him. He laughed and said it felt awkward. I laughed, too. Then I forgot about it until last week, when I found the notepad file where I’d jotted it down. I asked him if I should share it here, so here it is. To me, this is Joe.

* * *

Prestige. That was what he had.
He carried himself with pride and authority, betraying the leadership qualities the military had instilled in him that he’d never managed to leave behind.
The stern set of his mouth and brows painted a harsh picture; a man with little patience for fools, who wouldn’t spare anyone’s feelings if he thought the label fit. From the aggressive glint in his narrow eyes, one might get the impression the label fit everyone.

He was tall, with a frame that suited his pride. Broad-shouldered and athletic, with caramel-kissed skin and coarse black hair that glinted with gold highlights in the sun. High cheekbones called back to proud ancestors, softened by his gentle, rounded jawline and typically Spanish nose. His face might have been considered gentle as a whole, if not for the effect being offset by his unshaven jaw and thick goatee, paired with the hard expression he always wore.

No matter how angry he seemed, his face always softened when he looked at his daughter. His smile was broad and filled with perfect white teeth, and the deep crinkles at the corners of his eyes paired with the way he tossed his head back made that smile infectious.

His voice was like everything else about him; rich and authoritative, a low baritone that ranged from typically gruff to tenderly soothing and smooth depending on his mood–and who he happened to be speaking to. But it shifted when he spoke his mother tongue; it grew warmer, happier, and crept toward the higher end of his natural speaking range. It was telling, since he only used that language with his family. It was a language of passion, loyalty and love.

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