I walked in the door, coming from the neighbor’s garage, smelling like cigarettes. Kristy took Mallory to bed and I walked into the bedroom looking at the clock. Half past nine. Strip down and turn the shower on throwing my towel on the closed toilet and jump into the hot water proceeding to scrub myself down. I get out, dry off and throw on my flannel pants and look at the time, thirty-eight past nine. The eight minute shower.
My wife sacrificed her birthday present due to tightening purse strings. She simply asked to have the dining room finished by the end of the month. Reality kicked me in the brain and I asked for Labor Day weekend also, knowing I would have a three day weekend plus a forced vacation day from corporate. No problem. Except there was a problem. My wife can’t have her birthday without a present. That simple. The best wife ever and greatest mom can not go her birthday without some sign of appreciation from her husband.
Today I took some legal sized paper that was colored and printed off my acceptance letter for the poem I got published and also the actual poem itself from the .pdf I got as payment. The next part might sound conceited but it really isn’t. I signed the poem for her.
I could have
never done this
without your help
I love you,
I know its a few days early honey but Happy Birthday!
Oh, by the way, the writing experiment for the evening failed. What you see here is all I got written.