Some guys are born romantics. They go all out.
Like this romantic young man Terry and I spotted
while walking along Waikiki on Wednesday, March 26, 2014.
He didn't just attract our interest.
He attracted a crowd as he carefully placed glow sticks not far above the lapping waves.
Well! He definitely had everyone cheering him on!
And females of all ages loved the romance and agonized over what the outcome would be.
A buddy of this romantic young man lured the, hopefully, bride-to-be
out of her hotel room, across the street, and onto the sand.
The young man proposed, the young woman accepted,
and the crowd cheered, hooted, whooped, clapped, and jumped for joy.
Then we all dispersed into our unknown futures.
I sometimes think about this young couple.
Are they still together and in love almost nine years later?
Are they in it for the long haul?
When you get married you have no clue what you are signing up for.
If you did, you might never have the courage to do it.
The excitement of new love, lust, and passion blinds you to the reality ahead of you.
If you are lucky, all these heady feelings transform into a deeper, stronger love
that carry you and your spouse through life and all its challenges.
(Or partners or significant others who commit to a life together without the licenses.)
It is not an easy road, but if you walk it together through the years, it is a rewarding one.
Terry at the Hideout at the Laylow
January 9, 2022
This year Terry and I will celebrate the fortieth anniversary of our first date
and the thirty-eighth anniversary of our wedding.
I don't know how we got here this fast, but here we are, and still in love!
Terry is a loving, gentle, calm, and intelligent man with a wacky sense of humor.
However, he is not a romantic guy.
I'll admit, he's had his romantic moments during the last forty years,
but he's not one for big gestures,
like giving me an overflowing bouquet of long-stemmed red roses on Valentine's day.
And he wouldn't be caught dead laying glow sticks out on Waikiki sands
and proposing to me with a mob of noisy strangers looking on.
No,
but he's the kind of guy who's there for you in the ways that really count:
The guy who
drove two of my sisters and me
around Newfoundland and Labrador for three weeks,
enduring pouring rain, hordes of biting black flies, a winter jacket, hat, and gloves in July,
downing Screech, kissing a cod, and slogging through a moose-littered bog
while surviving the moods and squabbles of three competitive, stubborn MacBeath sisters.
He's the guy who coaxed me out from under a weeping birch on a random lawn in Calgary
where I had sought refuge in the middle of an hysterical, sobbing fit,
because my mother lay dying of renal failure several houses away
and I couldn't bear it anymore.
He's the guy who stood by my side and soothed my thigh one night in an emergency room,
while a male nurse held me in a lock and another male nurse
threaded a tube through my nose, down my throat and esophagus,
and into my stomach because I was bleeding internally.
Then he helped me give sub plans to a teammate over the phone
as doctors and nurses came in and out
checking me as my stomach fluids were pumped out,
because obviously I wasn't going to teach the next morning.
He is my rock.
**********
Last Thursday morning I trudged groggily out to the kitchen to find some coffee
(stuffed to the gills with cold medicine and Tylenol).
I found a pile of socks on my kitchen counter.
Did I miss some of the socks when I was folding the laundry last night? I thought.
Last Thursday Morning
(January 3, 2013)
I put them away.
Sometime late Friday morning,
I trudged groggily out to the kitchen to find some coffee
(stuffed to the gills with cold medicine and Tylenol).
There was another pile of socks in the middle of the counter.
What?!
Last Friday Morning
(January 4, 2013)
I put them away.
Sometime even later Saturday morning,
I trudged groggily out to the kitchen to find some coffee
(stuffed to the gills with cold medicine and Tylenol).
No socks!
Whew!
Sometime late Sunday morning,
I trudged groggily out to the kitchen to find some coffee
(stuffed to the gills with cold medicine and Tylenol).
I had forgotten all about socks.
Sometime even later on Monday morning,
I trudged groggily out to the kitchen to find some coffee
(stuffed to the gills with cold medicine and Tylenol).
What?!
The socks were back!
Did Terry do laundry yesterday?
NOT! The football playoffs were on all day.
How many games did he watch yesterday anyway?
Monday Morning
(January 7, 2013)
I called Terry's office.
He didn't answer by the third ring.
I hung up.
He must be really busy! I thought.
I didn't feel like exchanging pleasantries with someone answering the phone for him.
I couldn't do much more than croak anyway.
I put the socks away.
Sometime even later on Tuesday morning,
I trudged groggily out to the kitchen to find some coffee
(stuffed to the gills with cold medicine and Tylenol).
You have got to be kidding me!
More socks!
What the hell is goin' on?!
I'm going to get to the bottom of this tonight!!!
I swore as I put the socks away.
(January 8, 2013)
Tuesday evening was not a good evening.
I was completely out of it,
so Terry made me Chicken Soup for the Soul.
That's what he called it when he put the bowl in front of me and said, "Eat!"
Terry had gone all out!
Not only had he heated up the can of chicken soup,
but he'd chopped up and added in a leftover cooked chicken breast
that he'd found in the back of the fridge!
Chicken soup never tasted so good!!
I ate it and trudged back to bed.
I didn't even remember the socks.
Sometime a little earlier on Wednesday morning,
I trudged groggily out to the kitchen to find some coffee
(stuffed to the gills with cold medicine and Tylenol).
Oh come on!
More fiddlesticks socks!!
What the hell is goin' on?!
Tonight I will get to the bottom of this!!!
I swore as I put the socks away.
Wednesday Morning
(Wednesday, January 9, 2013)
Terry came home after work.
I was much perkier.
It must have been the Chicken Soup for the Soul.
I pounced! The croaking phase had passed.
"What's with the socks?
Every morning I come out, and there's a new pile of socks on the kitchen counter!
The kitchen counter!!
It's driving me crazy!!!
I keep calling your office to ask about the damn socks!
But you're too busy to answer the phone!!
I keep putting the socks away, and every morning MORE socks show up!!!
What the hell is goin' on with the socks?!!!!"
I had worked myself up into quite a lather.
The Ever-Patient Terry put the mail down on the counter,
turned to me,
and very calmly and quietly said:
"Honey."
He paused.
"The reason there are socks on the counter every morning
is because I don't want to disturb you."
Pause.
"You've been having such a tough time getting to sleep and staying asleep
with your cold and all that coughing,
that I don't want to wake you up in the morning
by turning on the light to look for socks."
Pause.
This is a very long speech for Terry.
He went on to say calmly and quietly:
"I just grab a pile of socks out of the drawer,
go into the kitchen, put them on the counter, and find a pair to wear."
Is the E-P not just the sweetest hubby on the face of this Earth?!!
Sometime even a little earlier this morning,
I trudged groggily out to the kitchen to find some coffee
(not quite so stuffed with cold medicine and Tylenol).
And there was another pile of socks!
This Morning
(Thursday, January 10, 2013)
Just another love note from the greatest guy on Earth!
Hopefully, by tomorrow morning,
Terry won't have to leave socks on the kitchen counter.
**********
Happy Friday, Everyone! Have a relaxing weekend!
My next post will be on February 25th.