My wife doesn’t jump into the shower with me on a regular basis, but this thing about her parents is a close second.

I’d like for my wife to love the way I look. I would love for her to think of me as the best looking guy in every room every time.  

I’d love for her to think that I am smart. Funny. Clever. Strong. Capable. Resourceful.

It would be great if she thought of me as cool. 

I would love to imagine that she feels fortunate and lucky to have me in her life. Grateful for the things I have brought into her life.

I’d love for her to think of me as the best of fathers. 

This weekend I listened to Elysha talk to friends about the relationship that I have with her parents, Barbara and Gerry. The love they have for me. The way that each of them feels about me. The specific and special relationship that I have with each of them. The trust and admiration they have for me. The love that I feel for them. 

She spoke about my relationship with her parents with a fondness and an appreciation that I found surprisingly endearing and incredibly fulfilling.

It was a small moment at a dining room table in a home in Exeter, New Hampshire that I will never forget.

Don’t get me wrong: I’d still love for her to see me standing in the shower naked and shout, “Damn!“

Maybe even jump into the shower with me, unable to contain herself. 

And maybe that happens on occasion.

It doesn’t.

 But that parent thing was still pretty damn good.