Another poem (kind of) for LG.
Don’t expect any of you to make it all the way through.
And LG may hope that you don’t, as it gives away all his secrets.
Heck, LG may not even make it through this one.
It’s a doozie.
Who you are
To me.
You are choice between diet mountain dew or A&W rootbeer.
And an empty bag of BBQ chips.
You are love that is better than ice-cream.
You are sunrise, sunrise,
I can see it in your eyes.
You are kisses all around.
You are always kind.
But never kind enough to yourself.
You are sometimes down.
And sometimes crazy.
But I am the only one that knows that.
You are the guy
with great teeth
and you don’t even have to floss.
You are the man
who I love by my side
in the bed,
on the trail,
and
at the movies.
You are amazing calves
that can still dunk
any day.
And a bad ankle
that keeps you
grounded.
You are a little boy
I want to hug.
You are let it be
and sunshine on my shoulders.
You are fall leaves,
and rain on the metal eave,
open windows
to let in the sound.
You are the one
who holds me
in a Southern Storm
or watches in awe
the Western lightening
scrawl across the sky.
You are a child of God
who deserves unconditional love.
You are a mighty man
who holds the priesthood of God
and can move mountains.
You are the equivalent of a PHD,
even though you say you aren’t
and that you think PHD’s are stupid.
You are all tough
and swerve to hit the squirrels
and say you are gonna get rid of
that damn dog
and I catch you
scratching and loving
the pet
and cuddling with the cat
while simultaneously
trying to shoot the crows
and you are a wonder to me
because I know you can handle
all the heartaches that I can’t.
And you can bury the pets
without shedding a tear,
yet you remain gentle.
You are a living paradox.
And you love smelly candles
and massages
yet wear the same old ratty T-shirt
because you don’t want to be a
metro-sexual
but a truly heterosexual
manly man.
Which you are.
But you love smelly candles.
And fondue.
You are in the wink of an eye
and Mormon Tabernacle choir.
And listening to you
listen to music
is like a spiritual experience.
Listening to you talk to your kids
about music
is like heaven to my soul.
And I haven’t even got started
about how sexy it is
when you play the piano
or quote Robert Frost.
You are dirty blonde,
and a toehead,
and mostly bald.
Your stubble up top
makes my hands tremble.
You are a fast typer
and a fast thinker
and fast with your
jokes.
And that’s about all you do fast.
Unless we count when you fidget.
You are a slow kisser.
A slow driver
and a slow reader,
but not to me.
To me,
you read the fastest.
You have perfect timing.
And against all odds
you have learned to be a good gift giver
which means everything.
You are a blinker
and a concentrator
and either do
one or the other.
You are the guy
who reads kids’ books
and plays video games
to bond with your kids.
Or they do it
to bond with you.
Not sure which
would be more accurate.
You totally own it
when I catch you laughing
at
The Wizards of Waverly Place
or Ponyo.
And you are proud of it.
And that makes me proud.
Because you are the best dad.
The best.
Anywhere.
You are the maker upper of games
that you like to play
with your buddies
in the front yard.
You are goof-ball
and I am one of the only
privileged ones to know
that side of you.
And I love it when
you let others
see the part of you
that is fun and carefree.
You are a strong strong spirit
who fights every day.
And loves your God
and your Savior.
You are an amazing
teacher
that can explain
the most
complex
things to
a person
of any age
or
IQ.
You are the forgetter
of where you left your wallet.
And the loser of
at least 7 weddding bands.
One for every other year
just to keep things
new
fresh
and
exciting.
You are the best district leader
to the bold kisser
to the man I married.
And you were so handsome.
And still are.
You are my Matt Damon.
You are the handler of taxes.
And computers
and TV’s
and DVD players
and anything
with a cable.
You are hiding
away your change
so you can one day
buy an I-pad,
which you may want
even more than that newest phone.
You are
the lover of
electronics.
All
electronics.
Even the remote control watch.
You are the disliker
of make-up,
and girls in immodest clothes,
and boys
who like your girls.
You are asleep
by 10 p.m.
and a snorer all night
on your back or side
but never on your stomach
and up at the
beep of the alarm clock.
Up and at ’em.
It never seizes to amaze me.
Until I hear
the shower running
for at least a 1/2 hour.
Every morning.
And then I realize
why you are happy
to get up early.
So you can sit in the bathtub
while the water runs
over you
waking you up.
You are the lover
of a hot breakfast
and rarely complain
that you didn’t marry
your mom
but instead a woman
who would
only cook for you
in the morning
on your birthday
or on Father’s Day
or when we have company.
You are the
I can do without dessert
kind of person
but bring on
the wings.
You are the man who is still
waiting for his BBQ grill out back
and his honeymoon
and his Cadillac
and his dreams to come true.
Yet you are usually content.
And worry about giving more to
your family,
then you take for yourself.
And that is such a turn on.
It makes me want to give you
that flat screen T.V.
that you still can only dream about.
You are the misser
of Atari
and your own
Pop A Shot
and
the days when
things were simpler and
your game boy
was in pristine condition
and you knew where
all the games were
at all times.
Instead of having to look
through the couch cushions for them.
You are the player of
Pretty Pretty Princess.
and completely honest
when you say you don’t
need a son.
You have the patience of Job,
which makes you the best dad.
But it also makes your life hard.
Because I guess God knows you
can handle hard stuff.
You are a hater of
sand in your craw.
And mean girls.
And injustice.
And you are
just like me
and always on the side
of the underdog.
You are a perfectionist
even though you won’t admit it.
You are an avoider
of things emotional
or overwhelming
or out of your expertise
because you are perfectionist.
You are a jumper off roofs
and you are the man
who could only
stand or lay on his back
for a whole year
of law school,
but you never gave up.
And you still help people
move their furniture
even though you’ve had a disk
surgically repaired.
You are an appreciator of foods,
and always up for
trying something new
and the hole in the wall spot.
And never order the same thing twice
unless it’s
chicken fried steak.
Or that salad
that your age
has forced upon you.
You are always anxious
about change
and you don’t like uncertainty.
You are empathetic
and loving
and overly accommodating
to everyone but yourself.
You are a guy
who can lose 50 pounds
in two months
when you put your mind to it.
You are the kid
who thinks that there
is always something
better on the other side.
Your weakness does not define you
as neither does your strength.
What defines you
is you.
And I want you to know
that more than anything
this me
wants that you
to see you
as I see you.
You are self conscience
and self deprecating
and I want you to see
who you are
to me
and
who you are to Him
so you can
see who you really are.
Because who you are
is so much better
than who you know.
alice w. gold 