Are you reading this? You sneaky boy? I have a statcounter account you know. It took me a while to figure out it might be you... lurking here. Oh love in the new millennium. The ISP decoder ring.
Hey. You. Boy. I have something to tell you. Something to get off my chest. A heavy kind of thing. Heady too.
I love you.
And I don't care that you never read my work. It doesn't bother me that you seem completely unaware of the novels that I write and the hoops I jump through to get them noticed. No kidding. I don't care. Want to know why? Because you love me without all that. You love me before and after. You love me if so and if not. You love me without leaving.
Sure, we need a wife. I'm no good at that stuff. You know... the vacuuming, the laundry, the dishes, the gleaming floors. It doesn't work for me. My best effort is your worst nightmare.
And sure! we don't agree about money. I want to spend, you want to save. But hey! You win that battle all the time, and I'll have a terrific retirement (If I live as long as you) or at least a beautiful funeral (you wouldn't skimp on that, would you honey?)
So here's the point. I don't clean the way you would like. And I don't care about money the way you do. I spend time clackity clicking on a keyboard when you would rather I gain an overnight love of baseball. I'm crazy, you're super sane (which, by the way, is crazy too.) So what makes it work?
Seaglass on the beach
pots that I can't reach
tangles in my hair
we both like to swear
muddled family waters
three exquisite daughters
free casino tiles
frequent flyer miles
you're good at math
you make me laugh
you like to play
This is a re-post. And it wasn't him. But recently he told me he was reading my blog. But he's only read about the pain. I wanted to remind him of the endless love. ENDLESS.
I love you Bill.