Patty and I have the kind of relationship where we can fight, and it doesn't matter. One minute we're in the worst fight of our lives, and the next, we're laughing about how stupid our fight was. I can do things like hit her with a baguette at Wegman's. And even though it probably hurt, she doesn't mind. Because when we were leaving, she swung the same baguette at me like a baseball bat. Threatening to hit me with it. I love Patty because she understands me. She understands every thought that runs through my head. Probably because I've discussed every thought that runs through my head with her. If I've thought it, she knows about it. And even though she knows every thought and every secret, she loves me anyways.
Thankful for Patty. Thankful that she loves me. I'm blessed to call her, sister. I'm blessed to call her, friend. I'm thankful that when we are together, it always feels like the good ole' days. I feel like a teenager when I'm with her. We can run around Wegman's together, being silly. I forget that I'm 31 when I'm with her. I forget that when you're 31, you probably shouldn't go running around Wegman's swinging baguettes at people. Thankful for Patty. My other half. When I'm with her, I feel whole.
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