You’ve watched me grow, often seeing I’ve matured a little before I notice it myself.
You share your wisdom with me, and like a fool, I know what you’re saying is true, but old patterns take time to change.
You make me laugh at the times I need it. And at the times we both just need to share the joy.
We critique meals, music and movies. We debate. But all along you see me through my tastes, and I through yours.
You spoil me with love. You spoil my by being there. You spoil me by giving me tales to relive, especially when I’ll reach old age.
And there are many of you, and individually, you all make me feel complete.