To my loving husband

Thank-you, to my husband who complimented me for my latest blog post, and who has no ability whatsoever to feign a compliment. Thank-you also for happily ironing for fifteen years, and for being a living example of so many things I want to become in my life. And of course you know I would not trade your choice of part for anything as the little wave in the front of your hair is what wooed me from the start and woos me still, and because I would dislike you changing your part even more than I dislike your Gilligan’s hat. And because I love you, just as you are, close to perfection, just like my girlfriends tell me you are, with a roll of their eyes as if I don’t know how lucky I am, which I think I do. I hope I do. And it’s because of how lucky I am, like rarely in our married life picking up so much as stray sock or hearing an unkind word, that I want to do this habit thing, as my choices small and big can bring incredible swells of joy for others, which is what I desire for you.

There is not a soul on this earth that inspires me to forget myself in the service of others and live in joy like you do. No, not even the ancient sages or mystic poets of Ireland. My most gracious thank-you for visiting here, my beloved Hugh. May the hum of our individual habits become a duet of divinity. My heart, and my desire for all that is good, right, and holy are yours forever.

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