Saturday, December 19, 2009

the band aid fairy


Okay so his hands are sore. It’s cold and the air is dry, the tools are cold, it’s all a misery when the temps don’t rise above 10 degrees F. My hands are in too much water also, and I get those same cracks and exquisite piercing pains. Fingers are so sensitive.

He fell asleep across our bed, watching the news. I was still doing laundry and picking up, folding clothes, wrapping up the night, but I saw him dozing and asked to see his hands.

He held them up in a gesture like, here they are, and fell asleep again. I went over them finger by finger, the palm, the sides, with ointment and band aids.

In the morning he kissed me good-bye and whispered, “Someone bandaged my hands while I was sleeping.”

Yeah, I’m the band aid fairy. That was me. You didn’t care. It made me laugh.

A few weeks ago I woke up and he was kissing my calves. I said, “WHAT is going on?” He crawled up to my face and laughed, “I’m trying to leave for work.” Yeah, well, GO. Sigh. He’s a grandpa now, you’d think he’d be past all that. Life is good. It’s never been perfect, that’s true. Work is unpredictable. Taxes are due. Customers pay or they don't. Bills are always on our heels. But we’ve got each other. Love, Val

2 comments:

  1. What a sweet story! Thanks for sharing it, Val. :0)

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