When things are perfect

Perhaps it’s pragmatism (with which I oft find myself afflicted (except, according to Husby, when it’s a matter of timing)) but I have a rather different view of ‘perfect’ and ‘perfection’ than do the majority of people I’ve asked. My understanding closer matches the third given by dictionary.com

perfect

per·fect

[pur-fikt; per-fekt] Show IPA

adjective

1.conforming absolutely to the description or definition of an ideal type: a perfect sphere; a perfect gentleman.
2.excellent or complete beyond practical or theoretical improvement: There is no perfect legal code. The proportions of this temple are almost perfect.
3.exactly fitting the need in a certain situation or for a certain purpose: a perfect actor to play Mr. Micawber; a perfect saw for cutting out keyholes.
4.entirely without any flaws, defects, or shortcomings: a perfect apple; the perfect crime.
5.accurate, exact, or correct in every detail: a perfect copy.

 For instance, I don’t think that either I or Husby are perfect in and of ourselves – we are far from it (some days further than others) but we are perfect for each other. We complement each other well, cause each other to have to change, adapt, improve, grow, practice, share, make effort to love, care for and nurture. We have a lot of fun doing these things (most of the time).

There are things we suck at (housework, going to bed early and understanding what the other one’s on about half the time). There are things that one of us is better than the other at (Husby – general knowledge and academia; me – words, cooking and the utterly wackadoodle). There are qualities each of us have that would behove the other to learn. We have each have qualities it would behove us to dial back before the other removes it forcibly. We stretch each other emotionally and mentally and as a result we grow and are (hopefully) more rounded and fulfilled people than we were before. That’s perfect.

Another example is my relationship with my best friend in the world, Meanderer. We’ve known each other for getting on for half our lives – certainly all of our adult lives. We disliked each other immediately on meeting. Now I certainly cannot imagine my life without her in it.

I think we’re perfect friends; we laugh at silly things, we often say the same thing at the same time (face to face, on the phone or over computer chat), we have companionable silences, we’ve cried together, we’ve fallen out with each other and made up again, we’ve travelled miles for each other’s company, we do daft things for the pure enjoyment of it, we’ve comforted each other, we listen to each other…all the good things.

All the perfect things, in fact, yet neither of us is perfect. Unless perfection is understood in this unfinished, rough edged, work-in-progress yet perfectly suited to another, similar thing.

Christmas was perfect and mostly spent with family. Yes, there were the usual problems of eating too much, getting a cold, moaning about rain, travel etc,  but there was plenty and more of love, care, joy and givingness.

I hope your Christmas was just as blessed.

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