My walking partner is a guy I know pretty well, in so far as one can know another. I'm purposefully uncertain how long ago we met; numbers like that give me the heebee-jeebies. But it's undeniable that its been more than 25 years, the age of our oldest kid.
There were years when it seemed our lives were pretty separate, though we lived together. He traveled for work, I stayed home. Household responsibilities were compartmentalized, his and mine. Parallel lives under one roof. Or maybe that's what teamwork looks like.
We travel well together. He takes turns watching the bags and buying the tickets. He doesn't drive me crazy talking too much. He's game; he doesn't mind backstreet hotels or squat toilets or street food for dinner. He's good in a crisis and will get you to the ER at 2:00am on a snowy night. He can laugh at himself. He loves the people I love.
I feel lucky to be traveling with this guy.
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