From Memphis with love . . .
You are in one state.
I am in another.
But look, in this picture we are together.
My sister-in-law, Laura, tells me she took this picture 5 years ago. We were so young, only married 21 years then, mere babies, what did we know?
It looks like we are sitting on the bank in our garden, the garden I’ve nagged you about for 8 years, the garden in which you bent your back to lay a brick wall, the garden from which you removed a lot of dirt at my request. Then I changed my mind and asked you to bring the dirt back. I don’t think you finished bringing dirt back. Not that I’m nagging – oh, look at all those hearts – they signify your great love for me.
Though my love has been a bit rough around the edges, a sharp that bled you, sweated you, carved and scarred you, you stuck with me. You have left me with cuts and bruises too, but you have been more gentle with me than I with you.
I know, I know, it isn’t about keeping a score card. It is about how you try to be better than you are. It pushes me to be better than I am, precisely because you love me as I am, never nagging me to change this or that.
But you luuuv me___
wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles, you’ve walked in the lion’s den
Twenty-six years together, Honey — together but untouchable today. That is sad, I guess, but it is hard to feel too sad with years upon years of memories crowding my mind.
Happy Anniversary, Sid.
Since August 4, 1990
We still do.
Unlike this post, which is full of rodent pictures, rodent horrors and rodent humor (for SOME people).
We awoke this morning to a light snow on the ground which kept my husband at home working in his office. We were enjoying a late breakfast together with the children, when Sid announces, “Kids, 23 years ago, I did something that I have never done before.”
The kids are quiet, looking at Sid expectantly.
“I dropped a smoocher on your Mama’s lips.”
Lincoln looks confused. “A what?”
“A smoocher,” Sid clarifies. “Do you know what a smoocher is?”
Lincoln thinks a minute and offers, “A rat?”
Sid stands up, adjusts his shoulders into his most manly posture and states, “I will show you what a smoocher is.”
“Oh no!” I squeal, “No dropping rats on my lips.”
Sid leans down and kisses me on the lips.
Lincoln is un-impressed. “Oh pleeeeeeeze, I’ve seen you do that over 100 times.”