Praying with Pics

Him (in the shed) Dear God, she keeps on at me, “Talk to me!” and, as you know, I’ve never been fervent about words.

She wallpapers the house with language, then wants to take the temperature of our relationship every hour as if we’re in intensive care.

“How do you think we’re doing?”

Her question that haunts me round the house, which is why I’m in the shed again, dear God. I think we’re doing fine, I tell her. I do, honestly.

She talks and I listen as attentively as I can; she is the mouth and I am the ear; she is word and I am receptive silence.

Isn’t that a good relationship, Lord?

She must know I love her, surely, and I never forget her birthday or our wedding anniversary.

I love her to bits for who she is.

What more is there to say?

56