Last night, I laid in bed with Bear and had a long, in-depth conversation about our days and who we saw and what we learned and what we're anxious about - and it was nice. We don't do that enough.
He's rather busy, that husband of mine, between his job, and his casual job and his schooling and being a father - so much that some days we talk only about surface things - a litany of 'Greats!' and 'Okay, I can do that' and 'How much gas is in the car?', and that's fine and okay and works in the short-term.
But some nights (after the kiddles have shuffled off to bed) we talk.
And it's good. I remember all over again what a neat guy he is, and he's surprised how interesting I am. (And vice-versa.)
Here's to more of that.
Happy Thanksgiving to one and all.