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Thursday, November 21, 2024 at 11:03 AM

CoffeeTime: “ONE DAY WE’RE GONNA DO IT!”

CoffeeTime: “ONE DAY WE’RE GONNA DO IT!”

The young husband meant it when he told her, “We will, I promise. We’ll go. But honey, right now is a really bad time. The farm is needing so much money put into it, we just can’t go right now. But I promise, ONE DAY WE’RE GONNA DO IT.” She sighed softly, but she meant it when she answered, “I understand, I really do.”

 

Years passed and she kept mentioning it, again and again. She knew he desperately needed a break from all the work. But she understood when he would have to tell her things like, “Darlin’, I know we haven’t ever gone. And yes, I remember I promised that we would. And we will. But, th’ thing is, my hired hand broke his arm, I can’t leave now.” Or, “Sweetheart, ya’ know this is calving season, no way I can leave now!”

 

Another fifteen years flew by. The kids grew into teenagers, and left for college. The farm kept flourishing and expanding under their hard work and care. So much so, that whenever she mentioned getting away, his painful answer was much the same, “Oh, love, I can’t seem to find the time to even sit down and watch a full TV show! There just always seems to be something else waitin’ for me to do. There’s no possible way this year. Maybe next summer.”

 

Eventually gray hair appeared, joints got stiffer, and the no-longer-young wife took to standing at the window of the dining room, staring longingly down the road that led to Some Where…anywhere. The still faithful, hardworking husband knew she spent time gazing out that window, dreaming of all the places they had never gone. But his job was still his job, and he took it very seriously. There just didn’t seem to be any time to pack a bag and walk away for a while.

 

But the day finally came. He sold the farm, too tired and worn out for the upkeep any longer. With no chores, no animals and no farming, he was finally free to go. The money was tucked in their banking account, and they could go anywhere they wanted. So, one evening as they sat in their rocking chairs in the gentle evening breeze that cooled the front porch, he brought it up.

 

The long-delayed vacation.

 

“Where do ya’ want to go, sweetpea? Anywhere is fine with me, I promise. Just say the word, and we’ll pack and be gone.”

 

With a choked voice, and tears spilling from her eyes, his beloved had to tell him the truth. “Oh, babe, I just don’t think I have the energy to go anywhere, anymore. Seems I just stay so bloomin’ tired all the time. I sure hope the doc can give me some vitamins when I go to see him next week. At least, I hope that’s all it is.”

 

Nine months later, her faithful hard-working husband stood by her graveside. Those standing nearby heard him whisper, “Oh, hon, I sure wish we could’ve found that ‘one day soon,’ before it was too late.”

 


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