Moroccan Meat Balls

Picture this – I arrive home from work at around 6:00pm.  Michael is in the kitchen wearing a pair of shorts and sporting a bare chest and his new tattoo orchid that he got in Bali in August this year.  The sounds of Buddha Bar V music is filling the room.  I don’t know if I am home or in an Arabian tent.  He smiles at me and says “I’m making Moroccan Meat Balls and Salad for dinner – o.k. Amore (his nickname for me)”.  He starts jiving and grooving to the sounds of the middle-eastern drumming.   I start grooving too and become lost in the dancing and then I turn and look at him and he says “Oooh Baby”.

Now he is singing “here she comes a just a walking down the street singing here come Moroccan Meat Balls”.

Mmmmm, our life together is so delicious.  Working part-time gives us both the opportunity to feed our soul with more than just our jobs.  Michael and I work 3 days a week, are careful with our money and travel once a year (at least we have done for the past 4 years).   He works Tuesday – Thursday and I work Monday – Wednesday.  We run Trainings for Business and Weekend Workshops together and this adds more income and interesting work.  We both have a day to ourselves and then a long weekend together.  This is the true wealth – time.

Michael has just put down my dinner next to me and says “here you are my flower”.

I am looking over at his profile as he sits on the couch and watches ‘Heartbeat’ – his favourite TV program.  He looks so debonair with his grey beard and slightly long hair.  His eyes look the same as they were when we met 24 years ago.  He catches me looking at him and smiles.

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