OUR EVENING WALK

Little things mean a lot.  They are bundled up little joys. Sweet memories.

Waking up slowly in the arms of the love of your life. That sleepy first morning kiss

over the wonderful coffee he brought you in bed.  Hearing the words you never

tire of, 'I love you.'  The evening walk to the mailbox.  What?  Did I really just

say that?  How did I get from a kiss, coffee, and sweet words, to a walk to the mailbox?  Well, yes. I did say that. If you will indulge me, I would be happy to share one of these walks with you. Trust me. It was a most

memorable walk.  (smile).

Our day had been a regular day.  Nothing particularly outstanding.  Just nice.  And it felt good to just relax awhile together. We had eaten supper and were enjoying awhile together outside.  Swinging. Holding hands. Enjoying iced tea.  Just being together.

My husband stood up and stretched. 'Honey, you ready to go check the mail?'  It was just one of those little things we did together.  Just a short stroll . . .through the gazebo and around a path leading to the mailboxes.  One box had our apartment number. Especially for Mr. and Mrs. Odell Edwards.  I loved the way it sounded.

I had my hand tucked into his right arm, and his left arm was
around my waist.  I always loved this part of our evening.
Because little things mean a lot to his girl.  One of those perfect moments. So peaceful.  I usually would sigh and tell this amazing
man, 'I love you so much, honey!'  He would grin and say in a soft
drawl, 'Yeah?'


The smooth walkway soon changed to a rather rocky path. There were  uneven, stone steps leading down the slightly steep decline.  We had
walked this path many evenings.  No problem.  Until this particular evening.

 Suddenly with no warning. . .we were falling!  Big time!  It happened so
fast. . .no way to stop ourselves.  The next thing I realized was pain.  My head hurt intensely.  I was thrown and ended up lying
in a position with my head on a rock. . .lower than my body.  My feet were in an inclined position on a stone step. I had totally flipped around from the direction we were heading. Not quite the way pictured here.

 Then I heard a groaning sound. Oh, wow! It was coming from me. Where was Odell?  I carefully turned my head to one side. I heard him calling out, 'Honey, honey!  Are you okay?' Then I saw my sweet husband crawling out from behind a bush. He was crawling toward me.

 And he sounded so worried. When he reached my side,
I was still groaning. From the pain in my head. That rock hadn't exactly been my soft place to fall. (ouch).  But what about him? 'Baby, are you okay?'  He assured me he was. I could tell he was more worried about me.

A little later I let him help me to my feet. Slowly. Painfully.  The pain in my head was subsiding just a little.  Maybe. We hobbled on to the mailbox just around the corner. I knew we must be quite a sight! Then suddenly we were laughing!  And we laughed all the way back to our apartment.  If it's true that laughter is the best medicine, we should both feel great for a long time to come.

Ah! How wonderful it felt to very carefully 'fall' into bed that night!  To 'gently' snuggle with my amazing
hubby. Very gently, I might add. Our bodies were reminding us of our earlier 'fall' that evening. And most likely we would be reminded for a few days to come.

But we would still laugh.  And we would wonder where all the nosy neighbors are when you need them most?  It was one of those times you feel relieved no one witnessed this ridiculous incident. And at the same time, you're imagining what a hilarious video might have been sent to America's Funniest Videos. Even nicer. . .
the $10,000 check. Because without a doubt it would be the winner!  Oh, well. . .unfortunately, there would most likely be other future opportunities!

I turned out the light and leaned in to kiss my guy. The one I was so in love with.

'Goodnight, honey, I love you!' 


'Yeah? Well, I love you, too! But I love you more. . .'


I smiled.  This would become one of our affectionate arguments. But not tonight.  I was too tired. . .