living together
You took care of the house and I took care of you. I was amazed by the number of times I would come home and you wouldn't have eaten. You didn't seem to be able to cook for yourself, others yes, but not for yourself.
I would come home and you would be sitting there, killing time in front of the TV or listening to music.
Have you eaten, I would ask.
'Not really', you'd reply. 'I had some toast' or 'I had some chocolate'.
It scared me, but also made me feel like a man. You needed me. You needed me to take care of you. And you wanted me to.
I cooked for you every chance I got. I loved cooking for you. If I didn't have it in me to cook for you, I would make sure I got you a meal, either Indian or a roti or something special. I loved being able to provide for you, especially as I didn't feel like I had a lot of money. But I needed to do it for you.
I was convinced it made you happier. To feel like someone would lift you up and not let you do the bad habits that we all fall into.
It made me feel warm and needed and part of your life.
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