The sink is free of the stack of dishes crusted with last nights fried chicken that you picked up on your way home from class. You cleared them away for me into the dishwasher that you installed with your mad construction skills. You know I like my salmon grilled crispy side up with the very center the slightest bit pink. As we eat our supper, I want to tell you how much healthier the salmon is than the sausage, but I think better of it as you smile at me across the room, relishing the sausage that you grilled next to my fish. You tell me the story of Ginger and Willow and we laugh at the antics of those silly dogs that make us feel we are still needed, like someone is still dependent on us. You ask me about my day and I tell you the ins and outs of it, and when I lean in for a hug you scratch my back, right in the center without me even asking you to. After supper, we turn to the dining room table that has now been turned into your school work station and without saying much, we fall into the nightly routine of school, but only for a little while, for tonight is Friday night. While you watch your favorite show, I will knit next to you. I will ask you if you want some coffee, even though I know you hate it. You will laugh and say, “Yes, bring me a big cup.” You will call me from the kitchen to tell me to come watch a diner where Guy Fieti is. You will tell me that when we visit Tucson, or Baltimore, or wherever it is we will eat there. Later, when the fatigue of the day, the week, calls me to lie down on the couch you will say, “Come on Lovey, let’s go to bed and I will finish watching it in there.” You know I want you by me even though you need to see if the Alaska boys strike gold.
There are no big expressions of love. No flowers. You will not talk about how you cannot live without me, or ask me how you got so lucky to find me…..not that I mind any of those, but I don’t need them.
For you, Mister, you say it best….when you say nothing at all.