Skip to main content

Before I say goodbye to Bella

Stuart, my darling,

The hours crawl. All thirty-six of them. I count the days and the hours until your return. I know that this is necessary for work and all and I will bear it. I must. I will be strong for you; and I will tend to your children and your home with strength and cheer.

But the hours do crawl and the days run together and I know not the date and this afternoon, while I carried the memory of your sweet smile in my heart, I sauntered to the beauty parlor that I might be made beautiful for your return. But in my befuddlement, I arrived seven days too soon for my appointed hour with beauty. However, my kind worker of magic took pity on me in my forlorn state and she waved her sharp and pointed wand in order to render me worthy of your attentions and affection. (The paint that you showered me with in loving kindness is now nearly gone.)

And in the dark watches of the night, I dream of your deep and even breathing. In my restless sleep I reach for your still and peaceful body. Alas, I am rebuffed by a blow to the head delivered smartly by one of the karate sisters and I rub my aching noggin and cannot find rest.

At this moment, music plays but it is not your pleasant and cheerful whistle. (Darling, I miss your cheerful tunes.) Memories in the corners of my mind...If you had the chance to do it all again...Would you? John practices his lines. Again. And again. He sings Babs like Pavarotti and it is lovely but not as lovely as the six o'clock chirping that signals the arrival of my glorious relief pitcher.

We languish without you. We subsist on grilled cheese and peanut butter. Pond scum grows upon the waters of the pool. And Henrie.  She rolls her mournful eyes toward the door, and waits for her beloved master.  She needs you.  Her water dish is dry and dusty. The children mark the days upon the calendar. How much longer, Mama? We do miss our dear Papa so.

Oh my dearest, we count the hours until we can touch you once again, until the children can fling themselves at you and wrap their little beings around each of your legs and your waist whilst I hang back and delight in their joy and wait for the tribe to get their fill and then you will once again be mine. All mine.

Hurry home, Sweet Stuart  that the sun may shine in Smallville once again.


Sarah said…
Aha! So you were the one who hid that Harlequin Romance behind the dresser of our bedroom that I was blamed for on my 10th birthday. Me. The most unromantically inclined person in the world. The one who had never heard of a Harlequin Romance before I was accused of having one in my possession. You have betrayed yourself with your latest romantic vampire post!

I like the idea of using a kaleidoscope to tone things down a bit.


It wasn't me. I'm going to need to call you and get the details but honest, it wasn't me. Or maybe I just don't remember because I wasn't the one who got in trouble. So if I did get you in trouble I'm sorry.

The time does drag when our men are gone, doesn't it? Hang in there...he'll be home soon!

Luke said…
I didn't realize just how much Twilight had influenced you [smile].


Rob said…
I do not think it would have changed the romantic side of mi esposa if you were truely at fault. But, if you could cast a magical romatic love potion on her I would gladly appreciate it.
Dante Montoya
Elise said…
Ah, Sir Stuart is richly blessed. (Is this your impression of the Twilight books? Love all the emphasis!)

momoflots said…
Thanks for visiting my site!! I relate to your writing - I get awfully lonely when my hubby has to travel - and I end up with many children in bed with me!!
mary grace said…
Just wanted to say how much I love your blog. Hope you aren't offended if I follow you. :-)
Mary@notbefore7 said…
oh, hoping he returns quickly! I think the vampire books have begun to affect you...LOL!
Faith said…
Aww what a sweet and beautiful entry! I hope he is home by now! I HATE being away from my man for more than a day; the hours just drag by. And I can imagine even more so when their are little ones clamoring for him!
Alana said…
Love it! Hope your reunion was great!

Popular posts from this blog

Spelling Wisdom

One day while skipping around the internet, I came across these:

And when I clicked on the sample, I knew we had to change spelling curriculums. Again. Goodbye Spelling Power and MacMillan and Sequential Spelling! We've found our true love.

The problem with the afore mentioned curricula is sheer boredom. Memorizing lists of words is mind numbing and as my children don't like their school work to lull them to sleep, they often push spelling to the side in favor of more exciting lessons.

When I found Spelling Wisdom, I realized what has been missing: an idea, something to engage the mind so that learning the difference between than and then occurs almost incidentally.

Sandra Shaffer uses the writings of famous men and women (Helen Keller, Beethoven, Winston Churchill...), Bible passages and quotes from quality literature...poems and novels (Robinson Crusoe, The Five Little Peppers and How They Grew, All the World's a Stage...) to teach more than six thousand frequently used word…


My sister-in-law lugs a heavy bucket of water around her herb garden, gives each plant a long sip. "It's been three weeks since we've had rain," she sighs looking out over the dusty vegetable garden and the shriveled brown grass in the pasture beyond. We help my brother pick beans and pull the weeds around them. The dry ground pulls back and some of the weeds snap off above the roots. We give up in the strawberry plants, sit on the porch, listen to the dogs pant.

We travel home in an air conditioned bubble. The whole length of the Shenandoah valley is crispy brown, the corn stunted. We pull into our Amish county driveway, greener here but the grass is short and the air hot. We breathe shallow breaths, unpack, crank the air conditioning. No rain in the forecast, three weeks and counting.

Saturday there will be a wedding, an outdoor wedding, and finally rain threatens. Stuart is on the phone with the bride. "Pray that the rain holds off," she says. Saturday w…

Until Death...

Kindred spirits, Anne would call them.  Two who complete each other, two who are together,  soul mates one cannot imagine apart.  I can count the kindred marriages I know on a couple of fingers and after last week, that count is down by one.

"You look so happy," Dave says as Stuart and I stand awkward and wordless before him.  I bend down to wrap my arms around him and wonder, Where is the good in this?  Where? A week before we bumped into Dave and his wife, Deb, down at the Famous Brands.  Deb glowed with good health and good news and for the remainder of the day we basked in the unexpected good fortune of meeting these old friends.  And now there is Dave minus Deb.  How can this be?
"It is one of the mysteries of our nature that a man, all unprepared, can receive a thunder-stroke like that and live."  Mark Twain's Own Autobiography
"You look so happy." We do not look happy but somehow this remark makes sense because Dave has loved with …