This morning at breakfast, Mike told me he thinks I am simply amazing. He pointed to the kittens lined up on the floor below, to the work on my desk ready for me to tackle when I can get a moment. He said I take on so much and he is so sorry he can no longer contribute to the keeping up of the house, the property, help with the cats- although he can still bottle-feed when needed.

I see this man before me, one who could before the illness swept in- build a beautiful home from scratch, make custom knives that could make you weep in their beauty. Spin thread on fishing poles and present the customer with a custom rod with his name, his boat or the fish he captured caught in the artistry of the thread on the pole.

I remember the first gunstock he ever crafted and how the local sporting goods shops in Alaska fought over which one would get it.

I see him now before me, his hands shake, his legs- well they no longer resemble legs. To me that look like diseased tree trunks. I had to run him into the hospital last night and we didn’t get back until after midnight. He decided to “help” change a light bulb in the bathroom and drove a screw (protruding out of one of the sides through his leg. I couldn’t stop the bleeding so off we went.

When we got home, I didn’t have the luxury of sleep. I had to rid the floor of all the blood- there had been no time prior to remove it. I didn’t want it to be a permanent resident here- so it is gone.

Then I spent a restless night with another new arrival. A kitty I call Scotty in honor of a dear friend and cat lover Scott Rundle of www.felinefurniture.com

Scotty was shoved into a letter box and left to die on a steel lot. He was found by nothing short of a miracle and brought to me.
I think I got two hours of sleep last night if that.

And here is this gentle, wonderful man who both frustrates and amazes me, looking at me this morning with such love- 25 years worth.

We met through a private ad years before computers. We wrote for years- him in Alaska, me in Southern California until one day I decided to yes, fly to Alaska to meet him and his five kids. I guess you could say the rest is history.

Because of our age difference, he started calling me “His Small, Powerful Child Bride,” his friends would laugh and my friends would tease me about being a “mail order bride.” I guess these days; we would have met through e-Harmony or Match.com.

He is the one who is amazing- and when another kitten is brought in the door, he shrugs his shoulders, smiles reaches for the kitten formula and offers a hand (if it isn’t shaking).

I may be his small, powerful, child bride but He is my Hero.