May 29th, 2014

Camo Teddy

All That You Need Is In Your Soul

THE Simple Life

Our new home is a work in progress; there is much to do.  I see you struggling with what to tackle first.  Clearly, you’re overwhelmed.  I take your hand, calm your nerves, and we make a list of what should be done when.  I strategize, prioritize, and dream of our future.  At the beginning, I can tell you don’t understand it all, but then your eyes grow bright as you start to realize my vision.  You become eager to get to work.  Your excitement is contagious.

It is enough.


You make me smile,

           and I am pleased with you.


The yard is a mess.  I watch as you move hither and yon, trying to do everything at once, accomplishing nothing.  I offer assistance, though I know the value of my help is limited.  Your shoulders are broad, your back is strong, and I pale in comparison to you; my weaker muscles just a drop in the bucket against the flood of strength that flows from your masculine prowess.  I am willing to sweat with you, to get dirty with you, to be a partner to you in this undertaking, but I know I am not your equal.  And, I know, too, this labor brings you joy... the earth in your hands, the sun on your face, manipulating the cycle of life.

I
m glad you revel in simple pleasures.  What I can give you is focused guidance; a clear view to the finish line.  You go about the chores willingly, casting furtive glances in my direction from time to time.  I smile and nod, plot and plan.  I keep you on task, knowing how you desire my approval.


It is enough.

You are a delight to watch,

           and I am pleased with you.


The house is clean, but not complete.  We scavenge the unbeaten path for furnishings and accouterments to garnish our surroundings; the comforts and trappings of home to consecrate our humble abode.  I try to include you in the design, but you defer to me on color, scheme, theme and style.  My taste is your taste, you tell me.  I become a whirlwind of intention.

I know you will follow my direction with all the necessary aplomb, and I have every confidence in your ability, even though you second-guess yourself at times, and wonder if you are up to the challenge at hand.  When a space is finished, we sit back
to marvel at what we have done together, and toast our accomplishments.  Our domicile offers so much more than shelter... it is our domain.

It is enough.


We are content,

           and I am pleased with us.


We are planning to entertain guests; we have been cleaning, arranging, and reorganizing all the night before, tidying and primping this morning.  You slave away in the kitchen, preparing a meticulously conceived gourmet spread.  I put the finishing touches on the decorations, spot-checking here and there, pointing out fires to be extinguished.  You flutter to the troubled areas, a tornado of cleansing energy.  Finally, our guests arrive, and I take my place as hostess; you take yours as master chef and server.  Together, we execute a gala soirée our visitants never let us forget.  We leave them wanting more, prodding us for future invites, hoping for another round, whispering among our sphere of influence until rumors of our hospitality becomes the stuff of myth and legend, and everyone we know wants a piece.

I know socializing in this manner is not your way.  I know you are content for our home to be occupied by just we two, and the furred and feathered friends who share our love within these walls.  But in our dominion, what is royalty without the camaraderie of surrounding kingdoms?  What is a castle without appreciation for its architecture and artistry?  What is a dragon’s den, without the awe and wonder of its treasures?  Riches, perhaps, we have not, but what we have, we can share, and spread our abundant joy with those we love.  In dutiful deference, with quiet resolve, you bear the yoke of my dream, and you make it possible.

It is
enough.

You bring my desires to life,

           and I am blessed by
you.



With all the chores for the day done, and all the spoils of accommodations put back away in their rightful places, we are winding down for the night.  I see you are weary and sore.   Yet you are restless, and I know why.  Our time today has not been our own.  You had to share me with the rest of the world, and you haven’t yet had me to yourself.  I sense your quiet unrest.

I take your hand and guide you to the bedroom, where we lay our tired bones upon the down duvet, and the hand-stitched quilt, carefully and lovingly patched over years of being handed down from one generation to another.  We tenderly caress, massaging one another’s aches, becoming entwined in each other. 


It is enough.

We are comforted,

           and we are pleased.


I know it was my boisterous flair for the outrageous that drew you to me, and it is my level head that keeps you with me, but it is the drive of my restless, wild heart that fuels the fire in your loins.  I never thought I would need a simple kind of man.  There was a time when I couldn’t have imagined life without the constant frantic pace I once knew.  But that was never what I wanted.

The stillness, the quiet, the peace of our existence, this is what I have sighed for.  This is what your love has given me.  In your arms, I have come to know true freedom.  It is
enough.

I am content,

          I am pleased with the life we have made together,

                            and I know the love we share will keep me, for all the rest of my days
.



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