When you’re married and committed to a lifetime together, everything revolves around three little words. Not all words have that kind of power; some words are just empty air. But these three … they’re special.

So now, Dad, Interrupted, as we celebrate our twentieth wedding anniversary, I’m giving you the most precious gift I have. I’m saying those three little words that you have longed to hear, and that I know mean more to you (and to all husbands, actually) than anything else.

Not the obvious “I love you.” Not “You sleep in,” or the ever-popular “I bought beer,” or even my personal favorite: “I ordered pizza.”

No, sweetheart, I want to say the words you deserve to hear, and that I don’t say nearly often enough. So please sit down and brace yourself, because here it goes:

”You were right.”

You were right when you insisted on selecting the largest lot when we built our house. You were right to buy a living tree for our very first Christmas and right again when you planted it in our front yard.

You were right when you insisted on installing the taupe carpeting, and you were right when you picked out the travertine tile, because that stuff never did show the dirt. You were right when you said I was laying the hardwood floor incorrectly, and you were right when you said you could do it better. You did do it better too, even though it cost you the better part of an entire long, hot summer sweltering with a mallet and a glue gun.

You were right when you asked me to quit visiting the flooring aisle at Home Depot.

You were right when you wanted babies, even after we had our third child and I was overwhelmed and exhausted. You were right to be delighted at the news of No. 4’s impending arrival. And even though you were terrified too, you were right when you told me that he would survive his precarious delivery.

You were so right when you held our beloved retriever’s paw when he lay dying, and when you held me as I cried over his ashes. You got it right again when you sat me down and gently told me that I had grieved long enough and you piled right on top of right when you brought home Elmer, our beloved basset hound.

You were right when you wanted to paint the house pale green. Better yet, you told me I was right when I painted the downstairs pale yellow.

I know I can’t say it too many times, but I hope you know that I know you were right when you insisted on calling the paramedics and then again you sat for hours with my dad when he was in the hospital.

You were right when you said that “Wrath of Khan” was the best Star Trek movie.

You’ve been right so many times, but I still like to have the last word. So I’ll remind you of the three little words I said twenty years ago when I knew I loved you:

You’re Mr. Right.

• Ahwatukee Foothills resident Elizabeth Evans can be reached at elizabethann40@hotmail.com.

© E. Stocking Evans 2015