A Key, A Kiss, and a Dreadful Call: Part 1

Wednesday, February 13th,  2013 is a day I'll never forget.   There was nothing at all routine about it. 

Our daughter had borrowed the van the night before to haul some things to her new place.  She would be painting and moving in over the next several days. President's Weekend.  She borrowed my van keys which also has my house key.  She left her car keys on the table for me,  but failed to realize that particular set had no house key. I didn't realize it either,  until I returned from dropping Joel off at school.

The spare key outside had also gone missing.

It was 9:20 a.m.   My hair appointment was at 10:00.  Hungry,  I drove to the grocery store and bought a banana and a smoothie.  Then I decided to fill Sarah's gas tank. It would be a happy surprise for her, a treat I like to do for my kids a few times a year.

My hour in the hairdresser's chair is what I call my Happy Hour.  I was doubly happy that I'd made my appointment for a Wednesday--the day I see the most people in a week except for Sunday. Need I translate?

I called Paul and informed him of my house key dilemma and that I'd need to hurry down to his office  to get his key and then hurry back home to gather up stuff to teach my art class. I needed to be at school by 1:30.  He was not impatient at all on the phone, as he could have been, considering that losing keys is a theme for me.

Believe it or not, I'd never seen where my husband works in the past couple months since they moved.  I needed an address.  My cell phone was almost dead, so I asked him for quick directions and could he please be waiting for me at 11:55?  I would be looking my midday best for him and for meeting  some of his co-workers for the first time. How cool was the timing of that?

As it turned out, he was waiting outside on the circle for me so I didn't have to pay for parking. 

He looked tired and dazed.  More preoccupied than usual, and not really focusing.  I never expect him to notice my hair; it's just not something he does, but I was hoping he'd look happier to see me. 
Instead, when I rolled down my window,  he leaned in and gave me a kiss. Sweet but quick, as other people were standing around on the circle, heading to lunch.

"What's wrong?" I asked him. "Not feeling good?"

"Not at all. I'm really tired."

He handed me his house key.  I thanked him.

Then I said, "Well, you look good. I mean, you don't look well, but you look good to me!" 

He smirked. Not a big grin, but his usual smirk mixed with his twinkling green eyes that tell me he secretly likes when I flirt with him, He tries to act like it's cheesy. Maybe it is, but I'll keep dishing up the cheese to bolster his ego. And because it's the truth; he looked good to me.   Not well, but good.

After 26 years of marriage and  a lot of bumpy roads and wondering if our marriage will make it sometimes, I was still--I realized in that moment--in love with him and glad to be married to him and that he was the father of my children.  Life was good.  Sometimes it takes an inconvenience like driving an hour round-trip in the middle of a cold, dreary day, to fetch a key from a reliable someone  who should have stayed home to rest instead of make good on a deadline, to realize how good you've got it.

"You need to come home?" I asked.  "Make it a long weekend starting now?" 

He shook his head. Drat the man has a hard work ethic!  Again, part of what makes him a big turn-on to me. 

He invited me to lunch with him and Ben (our oldest son works in the same office), but I sadly had to decline. Drat that little thing called a job I had to scoot off to!  Sometimes I wish I didn't have a work ethic, either!