The man

There is indeed a man in my life. I would call him a boy, but he really isn't. He's a man. Perhaps this is part of the reason I like him so much. I like his humor, I like his personality, I like his beard, I like the way he treats others, I like the way I feel when I am with him, I like that he holds the priesthood, I like the way he holds me when I really need to be held, I like the way that there is always something new to learn about him, I like that he wants what I want, I like his voice, I like his truck, I like the way he refuses to give up when I am having a bad day, I like that he knows the truth, I like that he's willing to help others, I like that he makes the effort, I like his crooked teeth, I like his beard, I like his old worn out hiking boots, I like the way that people describe him as a mountain man when I show them his picture, I like that he doesn't look down on me. I like that he tries to understand the important things that he knows he doesn't understand. I like that he can "play it by ear". I like that he likes to go on walks, I like that he likes wierd movies. I like that he likes kids. I like him. I like what he stands for. I like.