I read this tonight and it got me thinking. I just sent Dr. Gooch off to moonlight in the OBX for a spell. We've been neglecting (not really) the house and the children as we labor side by side to shape the yard. He put finishing touches on the chicken coop this weekend and I will start painting it while he's away. When he gets back the growth we've been nurturing together since FEBRUARY! will have tripled. We gather at the table with our children, sitting across from each other stuffing our faces with lettuces of every sort because someone got sprinkle-happy with the lettuce seeds--they're so tiny. Our everyday is where the true love is. We don't wake up or go to bed at the same time each night and morning. He spends many hours being there when the "everyday" of others goes terribly scarily awry. Just this morning? A tar-making machine exploded in a man's face filling his mouth with black, hot tar stopping his breath in an instant. It is nice to come home, I'm sure to the regularity of a sweaty wife watering the cabbage and dirty children digging under the coop. Sometimes, I even make dinner. He's so lucky. But I am always and always will be the luckier.