When I think about him, I think about how very special he is. He is very talented and skillful with his hands as a caregiver and as a woodworker. Like his mother, his smile can light up the darkest place and the most unhappy soul. Like his father, he is a person of great strength and wisdom. Humble and gentle in his own right, so very so in how he touches those around him. I often wonder if he knows that he shows his heart of gold and yet maybe never gives himself credit for all the good things he does. To me, he made life so real, I used to write about how I felt my perfect man was. Then, I was writing something that I had no ideal would become as true as the budding trees in the springtime. I find myself unable to write those pages as if he had written them for me. I think we go through different phases in our lives , each one in the time they are meant to be. As each day passes, I realize just how close he is to my heart. I c