My husband, The Hunk, had stayed out of school that semester and worked in a sawmill - barely keeping the wolf away from our door. He wore earplugs at night and kept a regular schedule.
The only time he received intelligent conversation with his precious bride - was for an hour or so in the evening. All she did was sleep and care for baby M. Why was she tired all the time? All she did was sleep.
Then one night - she screamed - and he shot straight out of bed.
The Hunk found his bride on the kitchen floor sobbing. Seems she had broken a wooden spoon trying to compress the air out of a bottle of breast milk. He took over. He held his wife and told her everything was going to be okay. He picked up the pieces and put them all back together. He gave his bride hope, and she believed him. He settled her into the rocking chair, and brought the baby to her. They were a family. . .
We still are.
Thursday, April 19, 2007