I have been married for thirty-four years to my opposite.
I work hard every day, not able to stand still for a moment. I prefer to be busy. If I’m not writing, I am working. Even when I’m supposed to be relaxing I put pressure on myself. I can’t just sit and watch TV, I need to be doing other things. I paint by numbers, or play Sudoku.
My husband could relax all day and it not bother him. Sometimes he gets spurts of energy, where he cleans the kitchen. At which point he will expect me to say thank you. He walks our dog while I’m at work, and will moan about practically everything.
But . . .
He is there when I need someone to lean on, and when I’m upset he gives the best hugs. He urges me to slow down, when I need to slow down. He cooks my dinner and laughs at my jokes and I laugh at his. In return, I am the voice of reason when he jumps in with both feet. I urge him to take a step back when his ideas are out of hand. I’m there for him if he needs me because I love him so much.
We see the best in each other and I never regret the day I walked down the aisle. Two children and two grandchildren later, he is the most annoying, loving, perfect man for me. There isn’t anyone else I’d rather be with.
He is Mr Hufflepuff, to my Writer Ravenclaw and I look forward to many more years together.