Almost Twenty-Two

That’s right.  Twenty-one, almost twenty-two.

Years of marriage, that is.

And he caused my jaw to drop.

Just like that.

Dropped a bomb on me, he did.

Said “I saw bees.  I wanted to stomp them, but I remembered you wanted them around to pollinate, so I didn’t…”

Wonder why a comment about bees could make my jaw drop, and simultaneously make my heart glow?

Here’s the quick version:  Hubby likes green grass, manicured, weed-free, fertilized and ferti-loamed, broadleaf sprayed suburban green.  That’s his desire.

Enter my new, three-year old phase of organic obsession, requiring chemical-free lawn clippings for mulch, and pesticide-free flowers and plants for beneficial insect habitat.  I’ve driven him plumb crazy with my rants.

He listened, and he cared.


That right there.

That’s love.

That’s down and dirty, jaw-dropping, knee-weakening, heart-thumping love.

Oh, you youngsters would have been proud of us back in the day.  We could have made serious love scenes.

Like that time when we had clothing strewn from the car to the…

Oh, my!

You didn’t really think I was going to tell that story did you?  ;)

Yeah, we had that.  Yeah, we still know how to light that fire.

But the good stuff, the real stuff.  That’s what I’m talking about.

He says tonight (yes, he was full of the good stuff tonight), “you just go on and rest your brain for a while. ”  He knew it was a rough day at the office.

Permission to veg.

Permission to sit on the porch and listen to the birds.

That’s the good stuff.

I hope you get to enjoy the good stuff.

Dreamin’ Girl


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