05-31-02 - 2:56 p.m.
the lake. the sun is out. a white duck is gliding across the water, a trail of babies behind her. a breeze is blowing dandelion down into the open windows of the car. patrick is eating his favorite chinese chicken salad. our feet are tangled up on the dashboard; mine bare. his pristinely white socks are an endless source of wonder for me. (g gets the washday miracle credit; if he were all mine, his socks would not be a priority.) there's not an angler or power walker in sight. it's fucking idyllic.
i'm an old guy, he suddenly announces, who will just keep getting older. you realize that.
okay, so i often make light of our age difference; i even call patrick a codger and a geezer and kid him about senior moments. but the bottom line is this; there are no words to describe how much i care for this man. he is the love of my life. and when we're together and the rest of the world is a ghost and his wedding ring and history with g doesn't exist, his age doesn't matter either. he's just a man, a vibrant, sexy one, who has shown me my value. he treats me with more respect and patience and adoration than i deserve, and no matter how much i thank him, my gratitude and love is always reduced to the cliche of a doddering old fool and the woman young enough to be his daughter.
shit.