Sometimes you're so frustrating. You react with an irrationality that belies your name--The Rationalist. You have a battle that must be won, enemies that must be thwarted, arguments upon which hinge the destiny of all mankind.....and you are committed to your cause.
Fatigue can slowly overcome my affection for you.
And yet....sometimes you need me. All you want is for me to rub your back, play a game or help you when you're sick......and I do.
I run my fingers through your disheveled hair, the weight of your head in my lap reminding me of that younger you perpetually climbing into bed with me in the middle of the night, scared by the shadowy monster drifting out of the air conditioning vent. I enjoy the quiet moment.
I carry you to your bed and prop up the pillows for you to lay on, telling you I'm sorry you can't breathe because of your cold. I kiss you and and comfort you. You welcome my loving help. I close the door and sigh, wishing it was always so easy to set your soul at peace, giving you respite from your imagined trials.