Since his accident, so many of our conversations have been fraught with tension and dominated by his health and his mood swings. Today there was little of that. Sure, he complained a bit about the way he was treated at the hospitals he's visited, and while I think his gripes veer into paranoia, perhaps that's to be expected with the misery he's endured.
He's alive. He's still him. He still cares about my niece and nephew (whom we discussed at length) and we both love our pets. And we both loved Sybil Crawley (but who didn't?). He staunchly defended Edith while I remain firmly Team Mary. And so the time spent on the phone today was my happiest hour.