He sits nearby most nights- watching tv, playing on the computer, practicing his video game skills, quick to respond to my random rants as I pin and cut and swear.
He knows me well enough to know when I want honest comments and when I need my ego soothed. He knows me well enough to know when I’m ready to take a break or when I’m getting antsy and need a few minutes of diversion. He’s laid back enough to put down the remote, the controller, the mouse, and let me poke him in the ribs, mess up his hair, or just snuggle in for a second. Then I’m away again, flying around the room, getting a snack, or off to sew.
His patience, with all his girls, humbles me.
He’s my partner in crime, my clown, my heart. He’s my place to rest.
Happy (late) birthday, Brisket.