It's him.Bundled in warmth against the July chill of San Francisco, my husband, Bernie strolls along a pier. He's the Best. After 31 years together, he still can make me roar with laughter -- no way will I go to lunch with him without wearing waterproof mascara for my eyelashes. My eyes squirt tears from the mirth; he has an altogether too-ready and surprising wit.
I love him.
When I put my head against his chest and hear his heart beating, Life makes sense again. When I awaken in the wee hours of the morning, with a middle-aged woman's fears for the future and guilt about the past, I hear him breathing, and all is well.
He is my heart, and without him, I would have no existence.
3 comments:
What wonderful thoughts. I think I can count on one hand the number of couples I know still married after 30 years and even fewer who still make the effort for each other.
Congratulations,
Kathy (& Dan, going on 17 1/2)
Now there's a fine man. Aren't you the lucky one?
Mwah to you both.
Ah, well, if you'll pardon the religious overtones, God told me he was the perfect person for me.
Over and over.
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