...and because he has not seen any of himself in my blogs lately.
But I see you every day, Sweetie.
I see you when I open the front door, and there is your infamous black cowboy hat hanging from the stair post, waiting. And when I miss you so much I think I will fall apart at the seams, I put it to my face and inhale deeply, and then squash it down on my head and go about my day wearing it.
I see you when I open the garage door and your huge and gleaming truck greets me, and I am not fooled by the sheeting, I know she is not quiet under there; she dreams of fall and tearing up the interstate and eating Fords. She dreams of starry nights when we lie together in the bed, whispering in the dark.
I hear you when I start up my car and the GPS system so helpfully inquires, "Where to?" I hear you when "Just a Country Boy," comes on the radio.
But, mostly, Sweetie, I see you when I close my eyes and we are on the lake and the storm is coming up. And we have brought the boat into the sheltered cove and lie in the sweltering heat inside the tarp and I am trying to help you study for the promotion board and you are distracting me.
It rains all night long and in the grey morning light we go out into the deep blue center of the lake. We are grubby and greasy but we don't care. You cut the motor and the wind rocks us back and forth on the water and you tease me about them opening the damn every morning but I ignore you because I know this works and I know so well how to handle you that it drives you nuts. And we eat bologna sandwiches for breakfast.
I close my eyes and we are at the camp grounds in Indiana and it's sweltering hot, but the trees shade us all around and you insist upon emptying the entire bottle of lighter fluid on the camp fire and we have sausages and Cheesits to eat because we just randomly threw stuff into the shopping cart earlier.
And your crazy friend from high school shows up later that night with four girls and no cheeseburger and you whisper to me that you owe me big. (And by the way, I have yet to cash in on that debt. I'm saving them all up. And don't tell me there's an expiration date to them, because there isn't!)
I close my eyes and I hear the door open and the dogs scramble to their feet, throw themselves off the bed and I hear your voice shout out, "Woman!" and then, in a smaller voice, "Sweetie?" I put down my book and find you at the bottom of the stairs, and I don't wait to get to the last step, I jump from the third step and you catch me in your arms and you smell so comforting, of sun and dust and engine oil.
And that's what I'll dream about tonight, Sweetie; of the next time you'll catch me in your arms.
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