The best kind of love

I sometimes find it easy to tell myself I’m tired, watch Netflix, and waste time. Leukemia makes for a great excuse. Perhaps if I lived alone that would always be the case. But not at my house.

My wife pushes me.

Though she worries about me and prays for me she doesn’t treat me like a cancer victim. This Summer she has me building a tree house, stripping out windows, and, sometime in September, building a porch. Then there’s those other things: dishes, laundry, taking out the garbage…

She seems to intuitively know when I really am tired and need to rest and when I should get off my butt.

I’m not complaining. She treats me as if I am healthy which in turn makes me feel healthier than maybe I am.

I guess she makes me feel normal. That’s the best kind of love.

[photo by Lex Sirikiat]