Sometimes when I had to stay up into the night rubbing Eliyah's smelly feet , massaging his calves, tiring, resting for a moment (at which point he would nudge/kick me to resume my work), I would make the task more bearable by pretending that I had a husband that I really loved, and I was rubbing his feet and legs. I told myself that even though I was taking care of Eliyah right now, one day it would be the man Yahweh had chosen for me from the day of my conception, my beshert. Then I didn't mind it so much, and Eliyah would sigh contentedly, "That's it, Bucky (his nickname for me), why can't you do it like that more often"? And I would wish he would shut up so that I could go back to imagining what sort of husband I might get, and how well I would take care of him.