My husband does karate
and plays the guitar.
He sits on his chair,
a broken recliner,
reading his book
on Saturdays,
only leaving
to read it in the bath
or make dinner.
He gives big tips
at restaurants
and saves money
so he can retire early.
He plays the twelve-bar blues
with our kids
,calling out the chords,
in front of the fire.
My husband sets down
what he is doing
and helps me find
what is lost
or scrapes the ice
off my car.
I used to think
I needed
to drink a glass of wine
whenever he did.
I used to think
he needed
to put me
back together
when I fell apart.
But now,
I’m just happy
that he gives me space
to grow
and doesn’t complain
about the mess.
I just hope
he can find
everyone he wants to be
in this rare life
with me by his side.
