Indulge me a few minutes this post to appreciate my hubby. This year we’ll celebrate 12 years, and it does keep getting better and better. In ways I never would have imagined, though.

Take communication. He often makes such an impact with a simple, gentle inquiry, or by saying nothing at all. Recently, he innocently asked, “did you know that the blade in your razor is disposable? Because it doesn’t look like it has been changed….like ever….”
Why, yes, intellectually, I knew that. But it was one of those items that I grasp intellectually, and then stop, not converting that knowledge to action. My morning routine has just enough time for the essentials, the razor doesn’t make the short list. I woke up last weekend to see a new razor greeting me in the shower. No snarky references to sandpaper. No bewildered undulations of “woman, you are hairy.”
Just a new razor. An unassuming, tangible proof that he thought of me and literally, wanted my life to be a little bit smoother.

At Christmas, he procured a quirky, small, specialty order book on writing. You know the kind that makes the eccentric small bookstore owner scratch his head, determined to meet his customer’s need.

And most recently, he quietly appeared before me, two ibuprofen in hand, because he overheard me admit to myself, quite dejectedly, that I had a headache. (Both kids were in bed, this was not a time for a headache!)

This is the stuff of helpmates: ever present despite the good and bad, with tangible action that here is love, support, and the occasional razor.

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