In preparation for the Christmas rush of visitors to our humble home, I spent hours and hours in the kitchen; devising menus, finding recipes, doing advance prep when possible. More hours were spent cleaning said humble home. And still more in decking the halls inside and out.
You get the hair-frazzling frenzy.
Through it all, I had unflagging assistance with the scheming, cleaning, and decorating from my dear husband (DH).
That’s right, He of the Lost Recipe, knows how to help in more ways than creative filing.
Well, he’s not that handy around the stove. But everywhere else, he was elbow-deep in holiday preparations. The man can wield a vacuum cleaner with the best of them. Not to mention a snow shovel. Or, bliss, a body massager.
So now all the guests have come and gone; fed, watered, and gifted. I sit at the table with my book and my mid-morning coffee before me. Blessed peace reigns over the sunny day.
The DH thanks me for all the hard work I’ve done to make another wonderful holiday. Just as he leans over to follow his lovely words with a kiss, the birds in the yard break into mad song.
“Listen to that,” says the DH, his brown eyes twinkling. “The birds want to kiss you, too.”
Sometimes, the H in DH stands for more than husband.
© Joan Leacott 2011, x-posted at Voices from the Heart