The man I live with gets things done. If the lawn needs to be mowed, he gets up and does it. He may groan while he’s getting up, but he does it. Unlike me he doesn’t spend time making long lists and then tackling each chore as if it were a ferocious monster that needs to be wrestled to the ground at great speed. The man I live with goes through his daily chores at a slow and methodical pace. I have learned a lesson from his tortoise ways.

He is able to live in the moment. When we are altogether as a family, just hanging out having dinner, I love to look over at him and see in his smile that he enjoys our family life as much as I do. We tell each other with our eyes: It doesn’t get any better than this. In the night in our big bed he likes to cuddle with me after love and I feel our shared contentment.

The man I live with does not cook much, but when he does it is perfection. He has this ability to cook popcorn on the stove and cooking every last kernal without any of it getting burned. I have watched the man I live with do this, and he has a zen-like contentment with cooking that amazes me. He never seems hurried or rushed. The meals he makes for us are special. The kids always say Mom you can cook but dad should cook all the time. We all look at him and smile, and he looks pleased and flustered at the same time. Thanks, he says, and smiles.

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