He belches.
He farts.
He pees in public. He always has. He says it’s ‘his thing.’
He once peed my name in the snow.
He likes to fix things.
He loves hockey.
He wears a ridiculous baseball cap.
He also wears mismatched tube socks.
He’s addicted to The Weather Channel.
He calls ESP, ESPN.
He’s a really good son.
He’s a terrific father.
He rocked my world at 16. I was 14.
He was my best friend at 20. I was 18.
He rocked my world again at 21. I was 19.
He broke my heart at 22. I was 20.
He broke my heart again in 1993, when he became a father, and married someone else.
He said I broke his heart in 1991, when I fell in love with the really great guy who took me away to Florida.
He held my hand at the funeral of a friend in 1993. I was weeks away from moving to Florida.
He walked away from me, after the funeral service, and I wondered if I’d ever see him again. My heart shattered into a million little pieces.
He and I had no contact for over 15 years.
He answered the phone when I called him four weeks ago. I was in town for the holidays.
He came out and met us.
He made us laugh hysterically.
He gave me a ride home.
He asked me out on a date. I said yes.
He called me when I got back to Florida, to tell me that he missed me. I missed him too.
He called a lot. He texted a lot.
He flew out to see me last week. He brought his skateboard, frisbee, and hacky sack.
He cried when we talked about our past. I did too.
He broke my heart when he left on Wednesday.
He’s coming back to see me in two weeks.
He asked me to marry him.
He said he will wait as long as it takes for an answer.
He may be waiting for quite awhile.
