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Sometimes A Great Notion

That my husband turned forty-one with little fanfare, doesn’t bother him a bit.

It’s just that I…

I’d wanted to do so much more.  Which quickly reasoned itself into, “I just want to do anything at all.”

Which was when I left the recent rut of my flu-filled bed, warbled down the stairs with the help of the banister, and pulled from the freezer December’s coffee cake.

And then collapsed at the table.

That my husband would smile like he’s having a birthday at the Hilton and not one with five haphazard yellow candles, two children in their pjs and a wife who showered sometime in the previous week, is, well,  just one more reason why I love this guy.

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