He moved with fluid motion from the pantry to the countertop stacking cans. JD asked when the canned food drive was announced. Umm, it was some time last week while you were in Houston, I responded barely peeling my eyes away from the computer. JD glanced back at me with a furrowed brow and asked, Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I’m not sure we have enough to donate…

There were at least 937 cans neatly stacked in rows. By the looks of it, he could have fed a small nation.

JD laced Polo to his leash and the two of them made their way to The Clubhouse. He was carrying bags of cans. See you in a bit, he said as he raised a heavy arm and smiled broadly. Even though I tried asking why he was giving away almost everything in our pantry, he ignored me. Well, no, he actually gave me a look that telepathically said If-you-even-THINK-of-giving-less-you’ll-be-worse-than-a-lump-of-coal, so I sunk back into my leather chair and let him stack to his heart’s content.

But that’s just JD. He gives and gives and gives. And continues to give, even when there’s nothing left. And just as freely as he gives cans of soup to the needy, he gives cans of love to me. He gives and gives and gives. And even when he thinks there’s nothing more left to give to me, he finds a way to hand over more.

To be completely honest, this past year has been very hard trying to balance our relationship and business. It’s quite easy to answer ooooooone more email…edit oooooone last picture…return ooooooone last call. But it’s impossible to ever get a quiet evening together on November 14, 2007 again. I’m slowly understanding this. Slowly. And until I’ve perfected this notion, JD continues to stack cans of love for me.

He’s always willing to help the needy survive.