It’s the little things, isn’t it?
When my husband said he had read my blog, I was surprised and secretly thrilled.
That night we had a dinner date with friends. As we were walking toward the restaurant he reached for me. “Let me hold your hand,” he said.
How wonderful is that! He read it, he heard me, and he fulfilled my dream. (See July 9 post)
He has credits in our love bank now. It will last him through some grumpy nights, some thoughtless remarks and maybe even the toilet seat left up…ONCE!
As usual, he tries to do what I ask. Oh sure, I can think of dozens (probably hundreds) of times that I have made my requests in the form of demands; or I have phrased them in ways that left him feeling criticized or belittled; or my timing was bad. There were days when he wasn’t listening or was just plain pissy and I didn’t get through to him. Results…not so good!
But there are more sweet and generous times. He’s willing to do errands. He clears the spiders from my life. He does the dishes even if he missed dinner. Two weeks ago when I was huffy and harried preparing for a trip, I mentioned that my car needed service. The next morning it was done: gassed, cleaned and ready to load.
A few years ago we were walking together through a quaint town in our area. It has the typical shops with jewelry, trinkets, and all manner of “stuff” to lure the casual shopper. I admired a ring but resisted the temptation to buy it. One special morning the ring was wrapped and presented to me with love.
Holding my hand was playing the trump card. That was the best!
xxoo
A Letter to my Children 