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osodecanelaAll gratitude to Anne Herbert for this thought.
Last Thursday was my husband's birthday. We partnered 32 years ago, when I was 26 and he, 29. I'll let y'all do the math.
After wracking my head for weeks what to get him, it hit me mid morning. He is happiest when he's building things. Tools are easy. Knowing which tools to get, not so much. In an event, it was off to the local pawn shop, who carry used tools of good quality, at less than I could acquire them elsewhere on short notice. I pulled into the public parking lot around the corner from my destination, and had just started towards the kiosk to pay for parking. In the past 2 years, most of the downtown parking meters have disappeared, and now, you walk to an automated kiosk, and pay to get a paper receipt, which you then leave on your dashboard. I wasn't 3 feet from my car, when the door to the vehicle next mine, a car that was already running and had just been pulling out, opened and a woman called out to me. "Wait!"
I turned. She scurried over to me, pushed a small scrap of paper into my hand and said, "here. Use this." She smiled, then departed. She had just handed me a parking receipt with half an hour on it. I looked up to see her already backing out of her spot, and with a slightly dumbstruck look on my face, smiled at her and waved, mouthing, "thanks," not that she could hear me over the traffic noise, with her windows rolled up. Twenty minutes later, I exited the shop, a laser level and a finish sander (with dust collector bag) in hand. With that, it was back to the office.
The following night, we went out to dinner with Jan, the dear friend who was Best Woman when we got married, to celebrate his birthday. All three of us ordered the chowder, followed by the calamari, both dishes they do exceptionally well. Mom had mentioned to me, she had sent him a card for his birthday, and I asked if it had come. He had picked up the mail on the way to the restaurant and indeed there was a card from her, but he had not had time to open it. When we got home, we fell into bed, intent on marital time before sleep overtook us, but alas the long day and the good food got the better of both of us. Despite our ardor, fatigue won out and too soon we were out cold.
In the morning, he opened the mail and there was a card from Mom, the face of which read, "To my Son-in-law".
This is huge. (and yes, there was a check inside, identical to the ones I know she sends to my sisters' husbands on their birthdays, but for the first time, she has called LJ her son-in-law!) Somebody, pinch me. I need to be certain I'm not dreaming.
Last Thursday was my husband's birthday. We partnered 32 years ago, when I was 26 and he, 29. I'll let y'all do the math.
After wracking my head for weeks what to get him, it hit me mid morning. He is happiest when he's building things. Tools are easy. Knowing which tools to get, not so much. In an event, it was off to the local pawn shop, who carry used tools of good quality, at less than I could acquire them elsewhere on short notice. I pulled into the public parking lot around the corner from my destination, and had just started towards the kiosk to pay for parking. In the past 2 years, most of the downtown parking meters have disappeared, and now, you walk to an automated kiosk, and pay to get a paper receipt, which you then leave on your dashboard. I wasn't 3 feet from my car, when the door to the vehicle next mine, a car that was already running and had just been pulling out, opened and a woman called out to me. "Wait!"
I turned. She scurried over to me, pushed a small scrap of paper into my hand and said, "here. Use this." She smiled, then departed. She had just handed me a parking receipt with half an hour on it. I looked up to see her already backing out of her spot, and with a slightly dumbstruck look on my face, smiled at her and waved, mouthing, "thanks," not that she could hear me over the traffic noise, with her windows rolled up. Twenty minutes later, I exited the shop, a laser level and a finish sander (with dust collector bag) in hand. With that, it was back to the office.
The following night, we went out to dinner with Jan, the dear friend who was Best Woman when we got married, to celebrate his birthday. All three of us ordered the chowder, followed by the calamari, both dishes they do exceptionally well. Mom had mentioned to me, she had sent him a card for his birthday, and I asked if it had come. He had picked up the mail on the way to the restaurant and indeed there was a card from her, but he had not had time to open it. When we got home, we fell into bed, intent on marital time before sleep overtook us, but alas the long day and the good food got the better of both of us. Despite our ardor, fatigue won out and too soon we were out cold.
In the morning, he opened the mail and there was a card from Mom, the face of which read, "To my Son-in-law".
This is huge. (and yes, there was a check inside, identical to the ones I know she sends to my sisters' husbands on their birthdays, but for the first time, she has called LJ her son-in-law!) Somebody, pinch me. I need to be certain I'm not dreaming.
