So many people have done nice things for me in the last several weeks, but I’ve not really shared with y’all just what a comfort and help Ben has been. Older ladies sometimes say, “I bet it’s nice that he’s so big—you’ll always feel small!” And that’s true. He’s as big as a bear and strong as a bull, the very physical attributes that can make a girl feel taken care of in a vulnerable state like mine. You don’t think about it until you’re unable to—how you need your core muscles to do just about everything. Since surgery, he’s picked me up off the sofa, pulled me up from chairs and the bath, helped me into cars, out of cars, down the stairs, out of bed. He puts me into bed and brushes the imagined dust from my feet (add that to the list of weird things I always do) with his hands. The best kind of flirt—he still makes me feel like the prettiest girl in the room after 10 years and my heart still skips a beat. I couldn’t make it without Ben. At least, I wouldn’t want to. Today before and after helping in a funeral at the church, he came home to check on me.