It was the morning of the winter solstice 

I went into the kitchen to get my morning bolus 

A mix of Maxwell House and Starbucks Sumatra roast 

When I realized once again that I love you most 

The evidence was strewn about 

That the previous night you had wild out 

Your mug didn’t make it to the sink 

There were chocolate chips on the bottom of it 

Hershey’s chocolate syrup on the counter in a line like ink

The styrofoam box from our leftover Mexican was at the top of the trash can 

I chuckled at the thought of you – again

I’d last seen you on the sofa at 8:30 

You feel asleep like a falling flurry

Your favorite Christmas movie had still been playing: Die Hard 

I love how you have no desire to send Christmas cards 

But we display all the ones from our friends on the fridge 

I head to the home office, over your clothes on the floor, a cottony bridge 

Your coffee cup collection lines the cabinet top in the bathroom 

I haven’t decided if they’re half empty of half full 

I let them sit there most the week because I think it’s cool

Your narrow footprint, in water, is on the rug in the bathroom

You showered just a few hours ago 

I peek in the bedroom 

You’re covered in blankets, wrapped in a cocoon

Nestled next to our 95-pound Golden retriever 

We haven’t turned on the heat yet 

Our home, our love, is our safety net 

I go in to kiss you

The taste of cigar smoke and whiskey is on your lips 

I think to myself: “This is as good as it gets”

You’re half asleep 

⅓ dead from the preceding week

You used your Saturday night on recovery time 

I reckon your Mexican, ice cream, coffee, cigar, whisky rendezvous was sublime  

And I don’t mind that your stuff’s strewn about 

Or that puppy fur is our fraser fir

You’re the one I wouldn’t want to live without 

These seasons, these weeks, these nights are blurs 

We may be exhausted, aging, freezing 

But we’re well fed and we’ve got a roof over our heads

We’re heading into winter

But our love, in our home, is ginger

Yippee-ky-yay

It’s the holidays