Shall we just have my blog have an auto-message at the top that says, "Better late than never"? I feel like I'm saying that a lot.
Happy Birthday to my sweetie. We had his party yesterday because tonight he is not here. :( Sitting here in this chair I am missing him and trying to think of a story for the word bite. As it is my husband's birthday I've recalled a story involving him and it comes from my archive of carefree and kidfree yellow kitchen days...
I yawn as I straighten out my stiff arm. It doesn't agree, and I wince as I slowly try to move it. I think to myself, 'That's what I get for laying here reading with my weight on my elbow for... wait... how long have I been laying here?' Glancing over at the clock I realize the answer to my question... too long.
It's late, but that's nothing unusual. Late nights and I have always had a beautiful friendship. But, since my recent acquisition of a husband (a few months shy of a year is still recent, right?), I mostly like to go to bed early and snuggle up with him. But, Night and I have become reacquainted as my Dusty got a new job where he gets up at o-dark-thirty every day. This, in turn, requires him to go to bed at a ridiculously early hour, which is simply not cool with me. So, I have been up to my old tricks.
Moving my tired body, I exit the living room to commence with my nightly routine of face washing, toothbrushing, and peeing every last drop so I won't have to wake up later. Walking toward the bathroom, I glance into the kitchen and grin to myself. I still have a chore to do before I go to bed.
I open the fridge and remove all necessary items for my chore completion. Lunch meat, mayo, mustard, bread, apple, orange, cottage cheese. Dustin's lunch box is already on the counter top... my friendly grin-triggering reminder. I even melted his initials on the top with a hot knife tip so it wouldn't get mixed up with the guy who has the same lunch box at work. As if he needed that. I always leave other little clues as to who's lunch box it is.
Cottage cheese in the little plastic Rubbermaid container. Check. Apple and orange in lunch box. Check. Sandwich made with mayo, mustard and meat. Check. Bite taken out of sandwich as a little token of my love. Check. Love note written on sticky pad and placed tenderly on his sandwich. Check. Bottle of water. Check. Love-filled lunch box placed in fridge for overnight coldness. Check. Heart filled with joy for being able to serve my husband and send little reminders of my love to him in the middle of his long, hard working day. Check, check, check.
As I head off to finish off my bedtime routine, I realize that I'm no longer tired. My heart is singing as my mind conjures images of him reading my note, finding my love bite and smiling as he thinks of me. It's amazing what love can do.
Happy Birthday, honey. I love you so much and I'm so glad that you waited for me to say yes. Sorry I can't make you lunches everyday right now because I might after this affectionate post! Love you so much.