Bill was a homebody. He often said the only hobby he had outside of woodworking was his family. He didn't care to go golfing or bowling with the guys. The gym didn't interest him either. By the time he got home, he had already put in quite a workout by walking miles on job sites or climbing up stairs and ladders. No, settling into the midst of his family after work or on his rare days off appealed to him more.
One weekend, I was washing breakfast dishes in the kitchen sink and looking out the window. “I sure miss having a clothesline. Wouldn't it be lovely to smell sun dried sheets again?” I mused aloud to baby Sarah, who was in her high chair, mashing up Cheerios in a puddle of apple juice. I daydreamed about this for a few moments, imagining glorious sunny days with lines of wash flapping in the breeze. Bill, who was busy lacing up his work boots at the dining table, agreed. Then he gave the baby and me a kiss and headed out the door to his workshop to finish gluing up a project. And that was that.
Or so I thought.
Twenty minutes later, I watched in amazement as a parade appeared in the yard before me. Bill was at the head, carrying two long poles and a sack of concrete. Luke was next, manfully wrangling a shovel across his young shoulders. Hannah proudly brought up the rear, lugging along a roll of nylon clothesline, her golden curls bouncing with each little step of her cowgirl boots.
Astonished, I quickly cleaned up Sarah and went outside. Bill had already sighted up the location for the clothesline—a nice, long one!—and was digging the first hole. “It’s going to take a couple of days for the concrete to set up before we can string the line, but I think this’ll do the trick for you,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes. Luke and Hannah grinned up at me, pleased to have been included in the conspiracy.
Tears of gratitude welled up in my eyes. What a kind thing to do on a day that was already packed with chores and errands! I watched as Luke and Hannah raced over to their playground and began clambering on it, singing snatches of happy little songs. Surely there no greater security than for children to be assured of their parents’ love for one another, I thought to myself.
I hung hundreds of baskets of wet wash on that line in the remaining years we had together. After Abby and Ethan were born, Bill strung a second line in the yard to handle the increased demand these new little additions generated. A friend once asked me if I minded doing so much laundry week after week. I smiled at her and said that I really didn't. How could I? Every time I went out into the yard to hang up or take down another load, the testimony of my husband’s love would greet me, instilling in my heart a fresh appreciation for the wonderful man I had married.
Kay O’Hara
April 13, 2013
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