Lynna Clark
My sister’s name popped up on my new smart phone. Actually it’s a stupid phone but you won’t hear me complain. Or recite the many ways it aggravates me. No, I am not going to mention how the things that used to be easy on my old dumb phone are nearly impossible on my new smart phone. Like adding my friend Edith to my contacts. Poor gal. Now she has to be Edith because I can’t figure out how to edit her name. Annyyywayyy… my sister called. “Happy Anniversary!” she joyfully proclaimed. “Thanks,” I answered. “But it’s tomorrow.”
“Oh… well happy 50th anniversary tomorrow! It’s a big one!” she exclaimed.
“Actually it’s number 49, but thank you,” I answered.
“Oh… well at least I was the first to congratulate you! Hope y’all have a wonderful day… tomorrow.” “Thanks sweet sistuh,” I replied. I didn’t have the heart to tell her one of our daughters had just stopped by with eggs from her prolific chickens and had already congratulated us. Not sure how people remember these things. I’m not even checking Facebook anymore. But somehow they know that felicitations are in order. Surely they don’t still use a paper calendar like I do. In fact I consider it a fun event to transfer all the important dates to my new paper calendar every January. Yep. I’m still that person.
What’s even better is that my hubba remembered our anniversary and gave me the best gift. He painted our bedroom. Sappy sentimental man. The gift is very special to me because I know how difficult it is for him to get down on his knees to trim around the baseboard. He assured me it wasn’t hard at all. “It’s the getting back up that’s hard,” he smiled that sexy smile and my heart melted. Yep. He’s still got it.
On our actual anniversary we REALLY got hot and bothered. He took me to Rufty’s Garden Shop to pick out flowers for around the mailbox. During the last year or so, I’ve been unable to go anywhere because of chronic pain. Well, except for the doctor’s office. But David suggested that a quick trip from our house over to Innes Street probably wouldn’t overtax me too much; especially if I didn’t wear myself out getting ready. So I threw a summer scarf around my lovely housedress. David pulled into the crowded lot and I was happy to spot the perfect heat tolerant plants. He scurried inside to make our purchase while I waited in the car. After he received a hug from the wife of his youth, he turned the key in the ignition. Nothing. Thus the hot and bothered.
Sweat ran down the back of my lovely house dress. Mama warned us girls to never go out in public without getting “done up.” She always added, “That’s when you’ll run into your old boyfriend for sure!” Well praise God I married my old boyfriend and the last thing on his mind at that point was my attire.
The kind folks at Rufty’s took time in their very busy Friday to help. As they, along with David worked in the heat to jump start the battery, I contemplated removing my scarf. But I didn’t because, you know… house dress. Instead I prayed that the Lord would intervene on our behalf so I wouldn’t have to hitch a ride in all my loveliness. At least I had on my good… flip flops. God heard the prayers of a desperate poorly dressed woman. Eventually we were back on the road for the short trip home to the magical land of Clarkville. It’s a wonderful place, hot at times, but always full of adventure. Laced with sweet surprises like fresh eggs. Plus kind people, and blessings heaped upon blessings. Happy half century to us!
Well… you know… 49.
