dear ken…

it’s 1:17 in the morning, you’re a sleep, or at least pretending to be so i won’t annoy you with some trivial question like why is liquid soap so gooey sometimes. i know, i know, not important enough to shake you awake. but you seem to have the answers to so many of my truly peculiar questions. today when we were walking the down the street, i could feel that we were a perfect fit. not too tall, not too short … just right, as baby bear would say. What inspired me to pieces was that we’ve been walking down many streets together for over 16 years now, and i guess we’ve always fit, i just – truthfully – didn’t notice. it was the call in on NPR today that brought me to tears, the young girl from Texas, who was working two jobs, just to make a couple of bucks extra a week to buy a CD, or to take her boyfriend dinner at perkins. all she was hoping for was an extra 20. i sob hearing that story. it makes me realize the depth of fortune, the profundity of the space that envelopes me, regardless of size — it is mine and I know it, and it will not be taken for granted again. 15 million on minimum wage. going up to 7 bucks and change. I watch you sleep. you work hard,  you love me good, you take so little for granted, you give and share and create magic in your garden. you make our world gorgeous and lush and oh so comfortable, and i curl up in the big chair and I watch you in complete awe.

sometimes it’s kinda hard to figure out what you’re gonna say to the very person you see day in and day out, something that’s not a cliche, or typical. it takes effort to make something, anything have a bit of a fresh kick to it. so i move over to you as you lie down sleeping, and i crawl under the covers and I tell you that luck was only a tiny piece. the other piece was being smart enough to recognize a really truly good thing when i saw it.  you are such a good man, i whisper in your ear.

I could swear you smile.

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