day 88: my husband and the heist

Introducing: my one and only.

My husband, known on here as A, wrote in my place last night. The title he chose, “callused hands and a lonely heart,” is indicative of the poetry in his soul. Our morning conversation touched on his conviction that his writing is worse than mine, to which I exclaimed “Nay, kind sir!”
Actually I exclaimed “no way boo!”
You see, I fell on love with A through letters and emails. His written word is an expression of himself. Raw and unabashedly truthful, he does not reveal his greatest self to just anyone. No, that is a privilege few earn. I am blessed to be among them.
A can talk to strangers. I can write to strangers. One of our many manifestations of that famous yin and yang, we complement each other and complete one another. We grow together to support and love our family branches which at the moment is the singular boomer, and our roots to which, like it or love it, we will always be attached.
I love my husband. He heisted my blog last night per my frantic request. I hope he stays safe from the those moochers and takers who attempt to heist his livelihood and generous heart.
Cheers to my husband,
Good morning world,


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