Quickie

Gravel crunching under the tires of his '67 Buick Skylark GS, the Wonder Husband rolls up the driveway. With the sapphire metal flakes of the paint sparking in the low angled sun, he silences the rumble of his powerfully muscled motor. This is not his normal routine. He usually gets home from work two hours late instead of early.

His face is set with a sly grin. A come hither statement shines from his eyes. Taking my hand, he pulls me to him. A quick kiss. A whispered sentiment laid softly in my ear.

"We just have time for a quickie."

"Are you sure?"

"YES! Let's go."

Hand-in-hand, we gently let the door close behind us...

He heads for the tool shed and I head for the green waste container. He, swift and strong, goes ahead and lops the tree branches. I follow behind as clean up crew.

"Husband, do you know what today is?"

"The day after my brother's birthday?"

"Uh, no. This is two days after your brother's birthday. And you'd better call him tonight since you obviously haven't! No, it was one year ago today you were in the hospital having your heart attack. This is your one year anniversary and look how far you've come!"

I look away as a painful shudder passes over him and a remembrance, dark and deep, clouds his eyes.

"Oh. This is a much better place to be," he says quietly with a far away voice.

In no time at all, just as darkness threatened an end to our assault, we had our dropped tree limbs stuffed into two containers and wheeled out to the street for pick up. The Wonder Husband was right. We did just have time for a quickie. Now it's time to go inside for a warm and proper anniversary celebration.