A Keeper

‘Reel him into the boat. If you get him in there and don’t want him, you can always throw him back.” -Bill Richardson, 1993, Ft. Worth, TX.

And…never happened. Hung onto him. With both hands. Still am.

I married someone who does things the right way. He makes the bed perfectly when I am barely out of it and actually researches appliances before we buy them rather than selecting the shiniest one.

He is fair. Once when I heard the kids’ story about an incident which happened to Jack in school and was getting upset, he calmly reassured me that he would speak with the parties that be to get a more accurate picture of what went down and try to get to the bottom of things. Which totally got my goat.

Per usual, he was right to pursue all the facts before judgment. Imagine that: thinking BEFORE acting. That’s random! This is the kind of crap I deal with being married to a keeper.

From before I was expecting, I knew that I was safe parking my soul with him. And I knew that my children would be as well.