Today’s letter is /h/ and of course I will talk about my husband. He is the most important person in my life after all.
The hubster is husband number three for me. As they say, Third time’s the charm, right? Ha! Of course, he got lucky on the first try. Double ha! Honestly though, it took a while for us to find each other, but in the six years that I’ve known my hubby, I know that we’re just kinda meant for each other. We’re meant to grow old and fat together. It’s not all sunshine and roses, but what is? I think we do alright. I mean, we’re not perfect… no one is. But in the six years we’ve been together, I think we’ve had one fight. That’s pretty good. Little snips and arguments, but only one fight. Other than my first marriage, he’s the one I’ve been with the longest. And I don’t think my first marriage counts too much since my first husband had sea duty for eight of the nine years we were married. For those who don’t know what that means, that means that the first husband was out to sea anywhere from six to eight months every year or so. I hardly saw him. We would just be getting to know each other again when he’d be gone again for six to eight more months. It wasn’t conducive to a good relationship. We didn’t even last a year after he got stationed to shore duty. But that’s a different tale altogether. It’s also in the past, so it is what it is. The first husband has gone his way, and I’ve gone mine. Now I have Doug, and that’s where we’re at.
I won’t go too far into what Doug is and what he does, only that I love him more than coffee and chocolate. He is the best thing that’s come into my life since Diet Coke.
He knows I love him because he buys me things like houses and cars, and he keeps the places stocked with chocolate. Ha! Worry not, dear reader, I’m not so easily bought. This falling down house of ours isn’t the reason why I love my husband. As a matter of fact there’s not one thing about him that I can point to and say, “There, that’s what I love most about him.” I just do love him. Because he is him and I am me, and I think we just kind of work together.
I was going to go on and on about houses and homes, but I ran out of steam. Blah. Ah well, to dredge up another saying, “Home is where the heart is.” My hubster has my heart and he is my home. Our house might be slowly falling apart, but I’m happy here for the most part. He makes me happy.
There’s another /h/ word for y’all… happy. And isn’t that about the long and short of it. Find someone or something that makes you happy, and hold on to that person/thing. Doug makes me happy. I make him happy. And that’s about all we need from each other.