I Like Him

I like him.

I like his heart.

I like his patience.

I like how he drags me out of the Atari age and into the iPhone age.

I like his massive garden in the backyard every summer.

I like how he'd had enough of me whining and finally planted strawberries in the garden last year.

I like how he finds advertisements about beginner's photography classes and encourages me to put down the bowl of ice cream, shut off whatever E! True Hollywood Story I'm watching, and attend.

I like how he lets me ramble for days (seriously, it's been seven days) about the beginner's photography class.

I like how he finds the source of the rattle in my Honda's engine and fixes it instead of just turning up Springsteen on the radio like I do.

I like how his even keeledness balances out my dramatic reactions to just about everything, like mashed potatoes, lone trees, two gingerbread armies, and (most recently) giving the okay for a pet rat.

I like how he took over being CFO for our family when I let it slip that I balance the checkbook to within a hundred bucks and call it close enough.

I like how he scoops the ice cream almost every night.

I like his pizzas, complete with homemade crust.

I like that years ago he commandeered the grill and that I'm no longer responsible for the meat portions of our meals in the summer.

I like how he gets me to stop watching Real Housewives of Orange County to watch documentaries like How the Earth Was Made.

I like that we were friends first.

I like that he met me in 1988 and still wanted to go out with me even though I had a perm.

I like that he takes a day off of work just to hang out with me.

I like him.

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