The 2,911th Day.

IMG_8987It’s been 2,911 days since we said “I do”, most days resemble what one may imagine a day in Heaven would be like and others absolute Hell. Day 2,911 was a Hell day. Donald wasn’t very lovable and my eagerness for peacekeeping and stamina had been long exasperated before he had his highly inappropriate and embarrassing temper fits which consists of spewing curse words and slamming of truck doors. In his defense day 2,911 was hard, oh so hard, our drivers acted as if they were new to this area, forgetting street names and county road numbers, two of our older trucks showed their age by tearing up while on the job, and to top it off three of our employees clocked out midday with no permission and we still had concrete to pour, leaving us with only three drivers to pour four jobs in two different counties. Heck! just being a business owner was hard that day without topping it off with a sass mouth wife.

Day 2,911 was not a “win” in my helpmate book, no, day 2,911 unfortunately is marked as a “loss” day. The picture above is right before the day went hurdling downwards to its final resting place where it burst into an explosive ball of flames consisting of an ample amount of eye-rolls, loud sighs, stomping feet and hair-flipping the cast of Mean Girls would be envious of. Ashamedly, I admit I was not very “Christ-like”.

I snapped this pic because I was amazed at how perfectly Donald’s tattered, grungy work clothes seemingly blended with the background, beautifully cohesive by blind chance. I live behind my camera phone for moments such as this. I am thankful for moments captured because if I hadn’t of caught this, more than likely my pot of distasteful scorn for the hubs would still be simmering.

After some time passed and the red-hot iron brand of anger had been extinguished, we were welcomed by our plush, overstuffed matching recliners, which sit side by side thankfully so we were not forced to look one another in the face, and I wish I could say that we then fumbled and stumbled over apologies to one another but we didn’t, we actually didn’t say anything at all for quite some time. We hungered for that silence and neither one of us desired to end that feast of nothingness prematurely with vain apologetic repetitions. Regardless it had to conclude and he broke the silence by asking me if I wanted to go ahead and pick up the kids from my Aunt’s house.

During the drive the silence continued, his eyes fixed on the road, maneuvering potholes and passing vehicles, mine at the fleeting cotton fields and once they emptied into the treeline I turned my attention to my phone, reviewing and deleting photos taken and expecting a slew of pictures of my littles feet, hands, and partial face shots, I found this picture. Even though it was taken only a few hours prior, I was enamored.

Before and during that photo, I was filled with so much “love” and adoration for my husband and yet whenever he wasn’t performing the way I had scripted for the broadway play of my life, I contemplated firing him and looking for a possible understudy. I compared him to the male love interest in the blockbuster hits and expected him to act as such, to be apologetic and intimate begging for my forgiveness and earnestly seeking my approval.

{{If you know Donald, you know that this figment of imagination AIN’T him.}}

Studying that photo is when it dawned on me, I was being petty and shallow. Not only that but another gem was revealed to me, under all that dirt of unfavorable habits I truly love this man. Not the “love” as I mentioned above because that “love” is not real love, that “love” aligns more with “like”, ex. I “like” and adore you when you stick to the script and not go all freestyle. Stick. to the. Script!

Love-an intense feeling of deep affection. synonyms: fondness, tenderness, warmth, intimacy, endearment, devotion, adoration, desire, infatuation, and attachment.

All of those words describe what is to be felt between a husband and wife, not necessarily all at the same time but nonetheless at some point. I wasn’t feeling the first nine per say but there is certainly an attachment and that’s what keeps us holding on during the Hell days, that attachment to my husband and Christ.

We had a family photo shoot on day 2,913 and the photographer wanted a picture of just us and I jokingly told Donald, “Act like you like me!” and the love I felt when he squeezed me close to him was enough to cover the apology I never heard.IMG_1787

Love stories are not created and defined by one day, they take a lifetime.

 

 

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