Thursday, September 16, 2010
Is there anybody going to listen to my story ...
... all about the boy who came to stay?
15 year ago he stood with sweaty palms, in front of a room full of people, and promised to partner with me in life ... forever ... no matter what.
He is still here, despite the "no matter what."
And he is truly amazing.
If you know him, you love him.
Once I said, "I'm getting my hair done today. Was going to do something kinda' crazy. Are you cool with that?" His response was, "You are the most beautiful when you are happy. Do whatever makes you happy." And he meant it. He always means it.
He has that "infectious way of laughing right out loud, that takes away my pain and lights the dark."
We could converse for two weeks straight, only quoting Seinfeld, Friends and a dash of The Office.
In my darkest days of anxiety and depression, in the middle of what I now know was my worst panic attack ... I wanted him. I just knew if he was there, I'd be okay.
When I text him to say we have had a rough day at home, he arrives and gives me all of his firsts (first hello, first hug, first one-on-one time). Then he takes the lead in having the kids make repairs for whatever has gone down that day. He. has. my. back.
I cook and he does the dishes. He also irons all of his own clothes. He sees my work in our home for all that it is. He supports it. He respects it.
Yet, I can walk away anytime, for any length of time, and he parents. He parents fully and willingly. He is Dad.
He loves football. He would butter bread with football, if he could. Watching him watch football is a favorite activity for the rest of us. It's loud. There is lots of clapping. It is so great, and a little funny. I laugh and I joke, but I love it.
He fell asleep in the middle of our first kiss (and I always leave out the part where I had kept him up all night talking - and he always makes sure to add it in).
The first time we danced, he dipped me and accidentally dropped me ... on my head.
When I dropped a basketball goal on the hood of our new van, leaving a nice, solid dent, he chuckled. He was not upset. He made a joke.
He has been there for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health. He loves me. He cherishes me.
We are not the same people we were 15 years ago. Yet, we are closer to one another now, than we have ever been.
I love you, Michael Ray Moers.
I love you.