Since summer we’ve worked for it. Throughout fall, we’ve talked about it: Christmas Vacation. That glorious week off buffered by two federal holidays – yippee skippidy-yi-yay. Time to rest, time to play, time to dine, time to just be together.
And then it happened again.
I. Got. Sick.
The day before Christmas.
All our plans for romantic nights together – on hold.
All our intentions – lingering at new restaurants – replaced by hot toddies and warm blankets.
Tender touches and shy smiles sure … but excuse me while I cough, sputter and gak.
Still Wonder Boy stays near. He shaves, showers and dresses. Puts on a little cologne, but not too much so as to make me sneeze.
He sips a brew and his broad hands bring a toddy.
He tries not to make me laugh for then I’ll cough and cough and cough. But he does anyways because he’s funny like that.
We laugh a lot.
He sees my red nose and brings home Puffs. He gets up to let the dog out and shuts the door so I can rest longer.
He answers the phone. Wonder Boy never answers the phone.
We don’t try new restaurants. We don’t go out.
We stay in and slowly, ever so slowly I heal.
And it’s not the Prednisone or the Zithromax or the Mucinex that do it, although they help.
It’s the love.
Stay tuned for more Adventures of Wonder Boy and Phlegm girl ….