I wrote this more than a year ago, back when the whole miserable Covid thing started. I am posting it now because it took me that long to find Bobo’s passport picture. We are still together, and we still love each other.

I like this picture of Bobo. It takes you past surface impression, and surface impressions happen a lot in a white community with a husband who is black, 25 years younger than you and has dreadlocks down to his waist. People have a hard time understanding him, too, because he speaks Jamaican Patwa.

Once, when our relationship was just starting out, we were climbing up the short cut from Winifred Beach in Port Antonio with my brother Jeffrey. Jeff had dementia and was just starting to get bad. I was huffing and puffing up the almond tree-root stairs and thought out loud, "I am taking care of Jeffrey, but who is going to take care of me?" Bobo said to me, "I am. Can't you see that?"

We have been stuck in this 500 square foot apartment for a couple of weeks now with, it looks like, more to come. I have been feeling unmotivated and depressed, but Bobo is never in a bad mood. I will worry he is upset about something or brooding, but he never is. He is always perfectly clear and even-tempered. Our relationship has just gotten closer and sweeter.

Here is a link to an article by Chris Hedges which I like very much. It is comforting if you have been worrying about the world being taken over by tyrants. https://www.truthdig.com/articles/acts-of-love/