My Valentine

So, more on the backwards journey... I got home from Calgary on the bus at 3:35 to be picked up by my husband. We don't generally do much for Valentine's Day - we both kind of see it as a commercial holiday. But he had missed me and he was leaving early the next day to Whistler where Redfish was playing. So he had arranged for us to go out for dinner. We came home and I checked all my messages and my 1, 000, 000 e-mails and glanced quickly at some blogs and then got ready for dinner. I wore a little black skirt (not that little) and a red sweater. I did my hair in a bun as I am hair challenged. (I've never been able to do it the way you did, Laura. It is NOT easy for me! It sounds simple when you describe it and it seemed simple when you did it but it ends up looking like a lump on my head when I do it. I spent too much time doing yours and Katie's and Martha's hair and not enough time learning to do my own...) And I was all ready and I was waiting for Dean. And I was having those uncharitable thoughts like Katie did about Brent and the jello because I was waiting and I am not very patient sometimes. So I called downstairs "well, if you're not really into it..." That was the wrong thing to say (or perhaps the right thing as things turned out...). I hurt his feelings. But of course, being a guy, he got mad. So then we are in the car, being mad and driving around trying to get in the right mood to go out for dinner (or else what is the point? The point is not eating but being together). And we are both talking and both rather mad. Then finally something shifted. And he told me that I hurt his feelings (not in those exact words but in more manly words) and went on to tell me how much he had missed me and how lonely he had been without me and how sometimes he just needs to be near me. How he was sad to be leaving the next day even though it was to a primo gig, he just wasn't into it and wished he could stay home. And how much I mean to him.

It was the sweetest thing. It meant so much to me. And I hate to admit it but I was a little surprised to hear how I had hurt his feelings - to hear that I could affect him that way. I guess because guys act differently, maybe we don't realize how our uncharitable behaviour affects them. It meant so much to me to hear him say those things. He seldom talks like that and puts it into words without me prodding him first. So we went out for dinner feeling very close and had a great meal and very meaningful conversation. It was probably more meaningful than it would have been if I had not been impatient in the first place... I love my husband and I am very grateful to have him in my life. He is such a blessing - such a gift. He loves me well.