BFF

Following another bout with hibernation, we eventually donned extra layers and made our way out into the dark, smoked night. Our foggy breath led the way as we walked through the deserted streets of our neighborhood, and not one person did we meet along the way. Under the streetlights, clumps of snow sparkled in the light. It crunched beneath our boots and we decided it sounded of goats munching leaves. We watched for patches of ice between the spotlights and held hands over precarious slippery spots.

When we returned home, our attic apartment now felt too warm. I hung my down jacket and stripped off wool socks. I was invigorated from the walk but still felt fragile and sad. Tears brimmed in my eyes and, seeing this, Gus wrapped me in a strong bear hug.

"You're my best friend," he said. These are some of my favorite words to hear. Indeed, in addition to being my spouse, my lover, my partner-in-crime, Gus truly is my best friend and I his. Over the years, he has been a steady shoulder to cry on, a careful giver of advice. A spot-on fashion consultant and an encouraging enabler ("Don't you need another pair of wedges?"). A willing gossip and a bringer of Bailey's and potato chips when things get dire. Someone who has always been on my side, regardless of the circumstances, and who always will be. A best friend truly and surely.

You're in my heart, you're in my soul/

You'll be my breath should I grow old/

You are my lover, you're my best friend/

You're in my soul.

                                                     --Rod Stewart, "You're in my Heart"