My Husband

A sparrow – it sounds like a male – is repeating the same chirp over and over again outside my bedroom window. I am lying on top of the cream-coloured cotton blanket which has been hastily tidied over the double bed I share with my beloved husband. He’s at work right now, learning to be a salesman.

I’m proud of him and all that he has achieved by his own endeavours. His parents didn’t help him or even encourage him into any profession. He has had no formal education since he left high school.

I hope that we grow old together. I do worry about his health, as he is not overly fastidious when it comes to his diet and lifestyle. It’s part of who he is, though. He’s not a pedantic overly-cautious person, and that’s one of the things I love most about him. He makes me feel safe, relaxed, happy and carefree – most of the time.

My moods are also influenced, to an embarrassing degree, by the weather. Sunshine, blue sky, gentle warmth: all is right with the world. I am powerful and bound for success. A cloud blots out the sun: life is nought but struggle. The cloud moves on: energy and optimism return. How utterly feeble.