I think after 40 years of marriage James and I fit together like a pair of old, ragged, comfortable slippers. You know the kind, really getting rough around the edges but also soft from years of regular use. I could sometimes read his mind, he could always read my looks. He was the good guy because most of the year he was never at home long enough to be, or want to be, the bad guy so guess who got that job?
I've been reading some of my past posts and this one made me smile (you might have to scroll up to the beginning of it.) You've probably read it before but I hope it makes you smile again even if you have.