I think it's true. It's true what they say: I dated you for your legs. "What do you see in that wild man?" they asked. "Are you kidding? Did you see those broad shoulders, slim hips . . . and the legs on that fellow?"
And then we went hiking, and fishing, and biking, and dancing, and carrying on--and you brought me those foil-wrapped campfire dinners on Parents' Night with my camp kids and wrote me a love letter on a big wad of state park paper towels--and I got to know the full sides of you, and one weekend we gave each other Indian names, or so we thought, and I called you Man of Many Seasons because I thought you were like Heathcliff and you gave me the name, without even pausing, "One with Own Path." And I think that was the clincher. That and those damn fine legs.
Happy Birthday, big fellow. And many more to come!
2 comments:
Oh, now that I see young K I can see how there's some of him in Tim, too! Love the photos and the sentiments.
Yes, very much so. And also things not seen, like beautiful moon-shaped nails and ribs built like a whiskey barrel.
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