Three weeks ago, Aspen held its annual ski swap at Lauren's school. The swap is a rite of passage for valley residents, as it offers an abundance of discounted gear just in time for the upcoming season.
Lauren, being the person she is, always volunteers to work the swap, while I, being the person I am, volunteer to use my spousal privliges in order to get in early and horde the best deals. We work well togther that way.
The swap started at seven, so Lauren hung around after school to work in her classroom. Meanwhile, I grabbed dinner with a friend downtown, with eyes on swinging over to the school right when the doors opened for the special "friends and family" shopping period.
Dinner ran a bit late, however, so I didn't make it to the swap until nearly 7:30. By then, shoppers were everywhere, and my wife was buried deep within their midst. I hadn't called her to tell her I'd be late, but rather than use my cell phone to track her down, I figured I'd start perusing the goods and when I ran into her, I ran into her.
As I turned down an aisle of clothing, I spotted Lauren about 30 feet away, near the end of the row. She was in mid-conversation, and hadn't yet noticed my arrival.
As I worked my way down the aisle, Lauren finished her conversation and turned towards me. She took a couple of steps, looked up, and our eyes met; and when they did, her face lit up with a look of excitement that's burned into my memory.
And that, in this year of so many miracles, both minor and major, is what I am most thankful for. That my wife, after all we've been through, after all she's endured, still looks at me the same way she did that first summer down the beach. Nothing has changed.
To be strong for your husband when he needs you is one thing; to not over time let that pressure and burden taint or diminsh the way you love him is another thing altogether.
Oh, and my dog likes to wear a wool hat with a brim when we're waiting for Lauren in the school parking lot. I'm pretty thankful for that as well.
Happy Thanksgiving everyone.
