He is many things to me and mine. He is stability while the rest of us spin wildly in our orbits. He is the smart one, able to explain physics and biology and technology and engineering so that little ones -- and one big one -- can understand. He is the slayer of spiders and other creepy-crawlies. He is the light sleeper awakened immediately by the pitter-patter of little feet in the middle of the night. He is the fixer of broken toys and disposals and hearts. He is the calming cooer to little ones out of control. He is the soother to us all.
We complement each other quite well. I am loud; he speaks softly. I am the talker; he is the listener. I am the disciplinarian; he commiserates with the offender. I am frivolity; he is practicality. I am a taker; he is a giver. I lash out; he ponders the route to take. I am a worrier; he fears little.
I've made it this far in my life knowing that regretting the past is fruitless. But if I allow myself to ponder what I would have done differently, I find myself pining only for the chance to have encountered and loved him earlier in my life, to have had more of his years than I have had. My solace turns 50 today. Happy birthday, Pete.
[Find solace at Sunday Scribblings this week.]