Monday, February 14, 2011

Roses are Red

Since it is Saint Valentine's Day, I have to say a few words about my husband...
For a living he drove a big-rig truck all around the country.
His rough hands liked to work on his Harley. 
He wore Wrangler jeans and cowboy boots, shirt always tucked in,
with a handkerchief in his back pocket. 
He's a man of few words. 

Would you believe that the person I have described
sent me a dozen roses, every week, for over a year?
Well, that is exactly what he did. 
This began the day after our first date and
occurred each week, thereafter.
Just as the roses began to wilt,
there was a knock on the door from a delivery person
holding another dozen red-roses, just for me. 

Through the seasons changing and all that normally occur within a year,
the one constant was the red-roses, forever blooming on my table. 
The only reason he stopped is when we became
engaged and I took over his book-keeping. 
The red-rose fund would have to now 
be diverted into our wedding fund! 

I can't tell you how romantic I thought that was and how lucky I feel to have found him.

Happy Valentine's Day!

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