If you know my husband, you know that he is an exceptional man. At least an unusual man. He’s an engineer, so he is not exactly romantic, but there are other whimsical qualities that make up for that. The first day that I knew him, we connected. He wrote my name in the dust of a window, as in: JC love BH. He did cartwheels to impress me.
I never knew anyone like him. I was enchanted.
And then there were kites. He could fly kites. Any kind of kites. When we lived in Washington State (Pasco, 1975) he literally flew off of those tumble weed hills on kites.
Yesterday, out of nowhere (I think he was cleaning out the garage), he flew a kite again. Straight up into the December Florida sky.
Once again, I am enchanted.