Instructions for Day 2: Photo of myself and the person I have been closest with the longest.
There are many people I've been close with for a very long time, but this guy has been there for the longest.
In the toy store, he presses every single button on every single toy and then giggles like a little kid.
He bakes all the muffins and shortbread cookies. He makes more cookies for Christmas than they would ever need at their Open House. This is to account for the ones that will inexplicably disappear out of the freezer beforehand.
He rarely read me stories. Instead he made up cool adventures about a kid named Bartholomew Snuffenhouser.
When we go for a run, he always tucks in his shirt and pulls up his socks. Then waits for me to say, “You are not leaving the house looking like that.” Then he giggles like a little kid.
He always made sure to tuck me in whenever he came home from work—whether it was 10 at night or 4 in the morning.
He only answers the phone if Mom’s not home, no matter where she is in the house or what she’s doing.
When I’m sad or frustrated, he’s the only person in the world that can make me cry just by looking at me.
When I told him I was pregnant, he looked confused, and said “but I’m not old enough to be a grandpa.” He seems fine with it now.
I got a brand new manual typewriter for my 10th birthday. Him and I had daily correspondence for the longest time on a roll of toilet paper. (It was endless and cheaper than paper—he is, after all, Scottish.)
All my friends are jealous of the relationship I have with him. He’s my running partner; he’s there whenever we need him; he’s someone who believes in me no matter what I’m trying to accomplish.
Believe me: I know how lucky I am.
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