My Best Friend

Let me tell you about my best friend, my husband.

We met 17 years ago, and my life has never been the same.

He can sing like nobody’s business, but he’s shy and sensitive and sings only for me. He has a sharpness to his wit and is one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, though he chides himself for never having finished college. He seems to have a map emblazoned in his brain. We only have to go somewhere once, and he has it locked in to his memory banks, even if we go years between visits. Sometimes I think he is insane, but he has it more together than I do most days. He’s kind and gentle, and he is ferociously protective of me.

And he loves me. For whatever reason, he chose me, and I am forever grateful for his love and his friendship.

All he has to do is look at me with those dreamy chocolate pools, and I still get as giddy as a schoolgirl.

We make a great team, and he never complains when he finds himself doing more than his share of the chores. He knows when I can, I do, and so he cheerfully does mine along with his, all the while giving me bits of his wisdom and laughter as he chatters away. He doesn’t even mind when I make a comment like, now who’s the schoolgirl, for all the chattering.

We are a pair, that’s for sure, and I don’t know what I would do without him.

As we soaked in the pool yesterday (me sitting on the steps, shoulder deep, and Ken leaning into me, with his feet up on the side of the pool), a young lady walked by with her baby. She stopped when my best friend said hello and inquired about her day. She answered, and then she stopped again, smiled broadly, and declared, “Wow, you two look happy.”

I could not help but smile in return, for we are happy, and I am glad that it shows.

May you find such gentle intensity and trust in your relationships.

Love,

Jenni