I sat in the cab, listening to Hubby and the woodcutter talk while they loaded a semi-green rick into the truck bed. Clunk, talk about football. Clunk, clunk, talk about cattle. Clunk, talk about pecan wood and its redeeming qualities for smoking meat.
I heard Hubby say at least twice, “…my wife…” and each time I heard that phrase my heart did a little super-growth spurt, like the Grinch’s pinnacle moment. MY Hubby had called me HIS Wife and it made me fall in love.
Photo credit: eMergent
It was barely over 30 degrees outside. The wind was damp and blew directly into our faces. I stood by my Hubby in a gas station parking lot while we counted out fifty dollars cash. I would run in and pre-pay, and he would fill up the car. I came back to find that the gas pump was not working correctly. He needed the attendant to reset the pump. I ran back inside to deliver the message. Again, no go. The second time I delivered the message that we “were going to try again,” Hubby must have seen my teeth chatter.
“Kelly, go sit in the car. It’s cold out here. I’ll take care of this. See you soon.”
And I feel in love with him again.
Photo credit: bcbusinesshub
At 7:30 p.m. we left WalMart and crossed the parking lot. We were parked at what can only be described as one of the furthest spaces from the front door. In the cold air, it felt like miles. We reached the car and Hubby said, “If you’ll start the car and pop the trunk, I’ll load the groceries. I can get this.”
I turned on the heated seats, thanking the ever-lovin’ Farfegnugen for what we were about to receive on our back sides. Hubby quickly loaded the car, and rolled the cart between the cars toward the recepticle lane where other carts were waiting. On the way, he stopped and grabbed a stray cart left between two trucks. When he shoved the carts into their proper holding space, he worked a minute to straighten the rows. I thought that maybe he was trying to make it a bit easier for the young helpers who would have to tow them all back into the store soon.
And I fell in love with him for the third time today.
Twenty-six and one-half years, and I still get a lump in my throat when I think about my Hubby.
Photo credit: Michael J Ross
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Best, Red Dirt Kelly