His name is Kendall.
His eyes are brown and he's taller than me and stronger than me and he likes to eat cheese and potato chips. When we first got together I found out that he liked to eat sour cream and cheddar potato chips and that he really liked it when he got one that was folded over on itself. From that moment on I made sure that if I got a foldy potato chip I gave it to him.
Because he is my best friend.
We read each others' minds.
Except when it is really important like "would you please pick up your socks" or "can we watch something else". Other than that, he pretty much knows what I am thinking right as I think it. It makes driving down the road really interesting because even with all the signs and people and things whizzing by, I know that he laughed at exactly the thing I was looking at.
That kid with the hair. The bumper sticker. Those lame attempts at religious humor church signs.
I know by the look on his face when he has encountered a moron behind the desk at the gas station. I can read his eyebrows and extrapolate precisely how much or how little he is looking forward to that dinner invitation. I can feel him mocking me with his eyes when I crack myself up yet again tho he swears he is laughing with me...not at me.
We see each others' worst.
Those times are not the best and I will make this paragraph short even tho that will be lying. He has guided my hand as I stumbled to the bathroom, bloodied and bruised from childbirth. He has held my head in his lap as I cried out the storm of overwhelm that came with the first day on the job after twenty years at home. He has endured my rantings when things have not gone right and my gloating when everything did because I am so cool. I have watched him flip out both too much and too little as life has ebbed and flowed. I have wiped tears. I have soothed the savage breast.
I have apologized when it was clearly not my fault...as has he.
Together we have seen the best and done the best and been the best as we have survived and thrived through diapers and growth spurts and hormones and other blessed disasters waiting to happen that is the glory of parenting. Together we have weathered the not fun parts of marriage as we grow together and on our own as people and as couple. Together we have known the joys of loving each other and our not always perfect life.
We relish the everyday. It is the thing that keeps us going. The grind of the mundane. Our utopia. Hot dates that never sway from two $$ old people date restaurants and not too gooey, not too graphic date movies.
It is the quiet not popular spots we gravitate towards. A standing joke between us that we bow our heads for a moment of silence each time we find a new favorite spot.
We know, if we like it, nobody else does.
He is my friend.
He sees me.
He looks for me.
He knows me.
I knew when we first met that he would be my friend. I knew that it didn't much matter where he was going, I just wanted to be on the road with him. I knew that in him, my heart had found its true.
I still know all that.
He is my best friend.
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