I read in a book once that if you want to gauge your progress along the spiritual path, go live with your mother. Last a week without blowing your head off and you can pretty much say you're a sage. I've been under my mother's roof for most of the last 7 years. Hell if I'm not Jesus by now.
I once told someone that most marriages, if successful, morph into a platonic cohabitation. I skipped the marriage part and live with my mother. Am I being glib? Is to state a fact also to perpetuate it? Does happily ever after only occur in fairy tales? Are happy endings to be had only in massage parlors and with one's mother? Forget I said that.
And thank goodness, no. Because now there's you. You who patiently listen to my rants, yet don't nag me when I'm not in the mood to tell you about my day. You laugh at my jokes (so I like to think) and nod in sympathy with my concern for the world's welfare. You don't interrupt me with ironic retorts or sassy comebacks (granted, because you can't). Hell I don't even know what you look like, which may even be a good thing.
And so, my friend, to you I dedicate this song. It is by Survivor, they of "Eye of the Tiger" fame. Do not let the fact that I dedicated this same tune to my first sweetheart - Christina, back in 1986, when I was 13 years old and she a precocious 12, if precocious means "good kisser" - diminish the heartfelt profundity of its message, and the sincerity of this my sublimely humble gesture. You're in good company, because Christina was a great gal, and a really good kisser. So this is dedicated to the one I love. That's a line from another song. It's by the Shirelles. Totally beside the point.
The point is you've followed me through changes, and patiently you wait till I come to my senses through some miracle of fate. That is actually a line from the song. Because when I look into your eyes - if I could - (I bet) I could see forever. The search is over now that I've found you. Thanks for being here.