Cold Water

Just a cup or two of cold water… the world to me!

Not going to sugar coat things.  I’ve had a tough couple of years.  Haven’t felt like writing.   Haven’t been very industrious at all.  Tried, but failed.  Looking after my mother, as she slips further into a world of lost memories and abilities, has drained me in ways I could never have imagined.  But I have great help… things have improved.

This guy… this amazing man I married 35 years ago… he has agonized over my agony.  He has been a constant source of strength and encouragement.   And this is the greatest thing he has done for me.  He has quietly assumed the task of filling these tumblers with ice water.  All. The. Time.

I’m a serious water drinker.  Through the night, first things in the morning, all day long.  So I sip from these continually.  And somehow… somehow in those long and difficult days, it didn’t matter when I reached for these, they were filled to the brim with icy water.  I would even try to beat him to it first thing in the morning.  Not a chance.   Any time I’d go to the kitchen to fill them up, already done.  Every evening when I’d come home from my mom’s house, there sat my tumblers waiting for me.  (Well… and a smiling husband whipping up some guacamole.)

It may seem like a silly post.  I won’t type on for paragraph after paragraph gushing about all that he does.   But Gary, from the bottom of my heart, I thank you for every single thing you do for me.  Quietly keeping these filled for all those months will always be a treasured memory of the refreshment you brought to my soul.


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