This, among millions of things, is one of my favorite things about him. He swoops into a room with a mix of force and peace, striding from one task and room to the next. He steps in to help me reach something above me or help put a dish away on the top shelf. He'll turn the light on above the stove when I am cooking like it was the easiest thing ever.
For the past 5+ years, his grace has filled me with love. He lives with strength and ease, grace and power, a paradox of sorts. He catches the spiders in the bathroom and sets them free outside. He plants delicate fuschias in hanging baskets every summer. He puts away the silverware in the most gentle way possible.
So despite my making fun of his chicken legs, I sometimes sit back and watch him gracefully walk through life, touching everything with love and his open heart.
Deep love to the man...and to his chicken legs.