For Tyler

Photo by Courtney Smith

Tyler is a comfortingly large man. Tall enough to look up to (even at my 6’1” [with shoes on]), and solid enough to not worry he’ll blow away if the wind picks up. He has a trim beard and wisdom-lines beginning to crinkle from his eyes. When the boiler is on at my house, hot water runs through the walls until they radiate a gentle warmth. Tyler is like that. He took me under his wing after I married Bobbi and started attending the state-fair sized gatherings of the Israelsen clan. We talk books and the many wonders of the Germanic-speaking world. I’ve been snatching moments with him at every Izzy-fam function since.

But I’ve never gotten to spend as much time with Tyler as I wanted to, not until yesterday. Yesterday I didn’t have to snatch; I basked. And even still, 3 hours felt like a prologue.

Our hangout was spontaneous. Tyler happened to be picking up furniture in the area and reached out. When he showed up at 11:16 am, I was still in my pajamas. (Don’t you …