As I write this, my wife is currently with her “stitching friends”. They meet at a local quilting shop, talk about life and everything in it. They compare notes about their husbands, and offer advice to one another. They commiserate about their in-laws. They talk about their children and what they hope for them.
Occasionally, quilting is accomplished. Really, I’ve seen pictures.
This gives me an opportunity to sit at the kitchen table undisturbed and write a card to her.
When we were dating I bought a huge box of cards from the college bookstore. They were from a company called Blue Mountain Arts. I recently remembered this and I looked them up on the Internet. I thought it would be neat to get a bunch of these cards again.
Turns out they’re still in business. I couldn’t find too much of a selection online, but they were sold locally at two locations. One location was at our local hospital. The cards there only consisted of “get well soon” and “sorry for your loss”. Not so much what I was looking for.
The other location that sold their cards was in this fun little community 20 miles away where we were headed to go kick up our heels, have a nice dinner, have a few drinks and see a movie (as a sidenote, this is when the idea for this blog was born – after two margaritas with my wife). So when my wife decided to go peruse a quilting supply store, I snuck off to the stationary to buy a pile of cards.
So here I am sitting at the kitchen table staring at this card with a pen in hand. It seemed a lot easier to write these cards 30-odd years ago. Honestly, I have so much more to write about now. But the words just won’t come. My thoughts are all over the map and won’t be constrained to a little square of cardboard.
I think it’s a lot like a physical skill, like chopping wood or balancing on the tip of your toes. If you don’t do it on a regular basis you lose the knack, the ability to do it well or indeed, at all…
Well, I bought 13 cards, so I’m going to have some opportunity to practice. Best to start small. One sentence should do.
You are my everything. Love, Mike.
It’s a start. She just texted me she’s coming home. I gotta find the envelope.