Lately, I’ve been pulling 19-20 hour days, just trying to get everything done.
Last night, I got home late from a meeting with Bourbon Coffee, which was further exacerbated by a Mercedes doing an oscillatory dance between a 3-ton truck and a Kia right at the I-95 Northbound exit off of 459.
Tamika just needed to talk, because the kids had been driving her up a wall all day long. I listened quietly, and then our conversation spilled into finances. With a lot of help; we’ve been slowly digging ourselves out of our financial difficulties by surviving on a shoestring budget. But that has been taking it’s toll. Tamika wished we could afford a babysitter, and wondered about what our future was.
After a while, the conversation subsided. I glanced at the clock. It was 11:30.
I got up silently and went downstairs.
Tamika followed me, and quietly sat in the chair next to my desk.
“Why are you working?” she asked softly.
I stared at the screens for a moment while programs fluttered open. “It’s all I know how to do.” I replied, “It’s all I can think of to help out.”
Tamika got up, and took my head in her hands and held me close. We must have stayed like that for a half an hour. She just held my tight, played with my hair, rubbed my back, and smoothed out the lines of worry on my head.
She kissed me, then headed upstairs. A little while later, she came back down with a cup of hot chocolate with marshmallows and vanilla ice cream in it.
“Don’t stay up too late.” she smiled.
I love my wife.
