The Grill Master

As I mentioned in my last post, the Writer in the Basement has taken up residence again. ~Whew~ Too, too long.

While I knew it had been too long, that fact was brought home on Wednesday night when The Grill Master got home from work. He works steel contstruction so you can't touch him until he gets a shower. Trust me. So, he went into the shower and I got back on the computer. 30 minutes later, there were footsteps on the stairs. Showered, dressed and clean, he had come down for his hug. My arms went around him, I managed to say "I'll let go in a minute" and I burst into tears. Bless his heart, he understood. He's been there through most of it with me. And for the first time in two months, I felt safe enough to just let go.

TGM is a big man. BIG. Hell, he works steel construction. Don't tell him I told you but he's also a klondike bar ~ all hard and rough on the outside with a center that can melt in a heartbeat. He's the Divine M's husband, the Poo's father, and one of my favorite people. There is little more beautiful than walking in from shopping with The Divine M and finding TGM and the Poo asleep on the couch, her little body curled up on his (large) chest.

So, we have sat outside and shared the news of the last two months, spoken in silence, celebrated the good and grieved the bad. We have talked philosophically and stupidly (sometimes at the same time). I've gotten my Grill Master fix ~ and I already look forward to the next one.

He's a good man and I'm lucky to have him as a friend, as my family, as a reality check and a safe place. Tonight, we're having steaks. :)

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee ~ but I don't need it 'cause The Grill Master will have it made for me when I get back up there.