November 9 (part 1)

This day is the day before the anniversary of 2 very important events of my young life.

I’m sitting here at my kitchen table. I have 1 child in the tub. My oldest crazy and my hubby are at the table with me. It is these 2 that surround these specific events. One was 12 years ago, the other was 11 years ago. Right now, these guys are playing a board game. called “The Duke”. I’m not entirely sure what this game is, though it seems to be kissing cousins to Chess? They are very into it. I love hearing these 2 chat even when it’s as though they are speaking another language.

The first event was 12 years ago. My hubs (not my hubs at that time) was working at a Rubbermaid factory in SE Missouri. I was with 3 of his sisters and his youngest brother at the church preparing for our big day. We’d be staying at the church’s parsonage that night. This parsonage was a cute mobile home. The trees were so dense that while they were just yards from each other you could not see the other building even in the fall with bare leaves.

The pastor liked to tell stories, and he told us one just before we stayed that night. He and his family had lived in the trailer until they grew out of it (they had several children). He came up to me and my very-soon-to-be-sisters-in-law and told us about this one fella that would come and visit him at night. This man would ride up on a horse and want to talk. It would not be out of the ordinary for the guy to be completely and utterly drunk. And that he may not like riding up to talk to “the preacher” and find that he wasn’t home, but some strangers were in his place.

Dealing with drunkenness was not a new thing for me. What was new was that we were quite literally in the middle of nowhere. Hub’s father would be with us, but this still led to an eerie sensation as we went to the trailer to prepare for bed. With my family, I had learned that there a “happy” drunks and “mean” drunks. Which would he be? We did not mention it, but we all were wondering what the night would hold.

There were a set of bunks in each room and then a hideaway bed in the living room. Dad took the master. My BIL (brother-in-law) took the hideaway, and me and the girls took a bunk, we all nestled down to prepare to sleep. My mind was going a mile a minute, but I thought for sure we’d be out soon.

I had my wrist watch on and just heard the tic-toc-tic-toc. Over and over again. I finally called out and asked if anyone else was awake.

All 4 of us chicky’s were wide awake. Then we heard the gravel crunching. We got so quiet, I think we were each holding our breath. Was the drunken cowboy coming? No, he wasn’t. All night long we’d hear one critter or another out there and our imaginations- our sleep-deprived, adrenaline pumping imaginations were playing.

We eventually pulled the sleeping giant from the hideaway and he- grudgingly- came to our all-nighter.

So finally around 5:00 AM, we decided that we might as well just get up and go to work with other preparations. BIL “broke” into the church- we had permission and in the country, like we were, we had permission. If I remember right, the Pastor had shown BIL how to do it.

6 hours to go! That was it. I get a bit silly and goofy when I’m running on little-to-no sleep. I think I made for an interesting bride. I left out… oh, which part? Either “for better or worse” or “for richer or poorer”. If it was the first, in my mind it was and is and will always be a given. The 2nd? Well, I was fairly certain that it would never be “richer” and would most likely be very close to “poorer”.

We’ve never been in real need. We have had a few times that we did not know what we’d eat in the next week (We try to stick to a weekly or biweekly shopping) or if we’d be able to pay the bills… ok, the second, part has been more oftener than not.

We’ve had our ups and downs. Our ugly spots. Yet, my man and I are here to stay. 12 years down and many, many more to go.

Thankful day 9- I’m thankful for the example of both of our parents. My parents will celebrate 33 years on December 26. My in-laws will be celebrating 40 years in January. I’ve seen and watched how very difficult marriage can be. My grandparents, both sets,  stayed married until they passed away. Their marriages were hard, at times a fight. Yet their love- even when the other did not deserve it and/or was downright ugly- survived.

I know that this was not a “crochet” post. But if it weren’t for the support of my man, well, I wouldn’t be doing any of this.

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