The Merry Maytag Men

I use my dryer a minimum of two times per day, 365 days per year.  That is 730 per year.  Minimum.

During football and wrestling season, you can easily add an extra 100 loads for a total of 830 loads per year.

I work my dryer out.  And the washer.  I love them.  I wipe them down.  I speak to them.  I speak with affection when talking to them.  I love them.

Saturday is "sheet day" and I never miss a Saturday. I have taught all my children to appreciate fresh sheets.  

I love my washer and dryer.

Years ago, when Franklin and I moved in together, he bought me a dryer at used appliance store for $25.  It was the best dryer ever.  It died on the same Sunday the Carolina Panthers were in their Superbowl and I had two in diapers.  Part of me died too that day when my dryer stopped working.    

Saturday morning, Walker and Zack (my son from another mother who is busy taking care of her elderly parents in another state) had to leave early am for a wrestling tournament.  I sprinted up those stairs to grab the sheets and towels (it was Saturday after all) and started load before 6am.  As the morning continued, I washed and dried.  

 

Franklin and I left for the tournament with two loads to go in the dryer and one in the washer. 

When we bolted in door late Saturday night, I hit the start button to my old friend but he never warmed up. 

Ugh.   "all I want for Christmas is a new dryer" said no one ever.  

I went to bed and decided to tackle it in the am.

Sunday morning, I sprang from my bed to give my dryer another chance.  Again, he didn't heat up.

I threw on some jeans and went to the Laundry mat before 8am.  I waited in line to get to a Laundry mat on a Sunday.  (possible adulthood fail)

I threw the wet clothes in and then went to the store.  Shopped, went back to the Laundry mat and was home by 930 am.

I went to church and came home for Family Day.

Family Day (according to Franklin and me) is the day where we are a family.  No friends coming and no going to any friend's houses.  We eat as a family, we do nothing as a family, or we do something as a family.  Our kids HATE it but we don't care.

So for Family Day, (and let me just add I let them sleep in because the tournament day was so long) I had made plans for us to go get the Christmas tree and then go to church for the Advent Wreath making/Spaghetti Dinner.  You can imagine how this was going over.

I decided to give them each an early Christmas gift to start their day.

In the process, I asked Zack to take more wet laundry to his house to dry until we could get the new heating element in the dryer.

After all, I he had now moved his box turtles in as well (until his mom gets back).  I had a plan.  

While we were attending the Wreath making, I noticed the boys on their phones (a no no) and all of the sudden "they needed to use the bathroom".  

Shortly afterward, the boys asked, "can we go please?"  They could not eat dinner (wrestling season) and they were going to go check on the dry clothes.  

Ok, I am a sap.  Franklin and I stayed at the dinner and then returned home.  As we pulled down the road, we noticed that Walker's truck was gone.  But as we pulled in the driveway, we saw Walker's truck backed up to the front stairs and Walker and Zack were unloading a dryer.  

Our first thought was "OMG, they took the dryer from Zack's house and brought it to ours" and what kind of a move is this?  

We walked into the house and there they were, moving the new dryer into the laundry room with the old one already in the garage.

WTH?  

As it turns out, my little Maytag Repair men, found a used dryer on Craig's list and went and purchased it.  

My first Christmas gift was a $37 used Maytag that "even came with straps to strap in the truck."

Years ago, Addie came home with this picture of Rudolph.  Obviously, she had not mastered staying within the lines.  She was proud of this picture.  "It is your Christmas gift, frame it."

I did frame it.  And every year I display it proudly. She was so excited to bring this home and share it with us.  She said, "I never knew I could make something this good."

When I think about these young men calling somebody from Craig's List and then "making the deal" and loading it all to surprise me, my heart swells.  And they were proud of themselves.  They "never knew they could do something this good."

"You gave us an early present, we gave you one."

I love my new dryer.  I love the smell of the fabric softener blowing out of the vent onto my porch when I drink my coffee in the still of the morning.

If I live to be 100, I will never forget watching those young boys carrying that dryer out of the back of the truck and into the house.  It warms my heart.  Merry Early Christmas to me. 

HALLOWEEN HEARTACHE

It came and it went.  It sucked.  The hallowed event of our home, sucked.

Halloween that is, Halloween sucked.

We love Halloween in this house. Always have.

It is only fair that I give the Halloween crush credit to my oldest son, "the button."

He spend most of his adolescence dressed in costume.  It was HIS holiday.

I was crazy enough to give this over-the-top ADHD kid a knife and eight pumpkins, some spray paint and glitter.  He was ahead of his time with the pumpkin carving.  Nothing is cooler than a carved pumpkin spray painted black.

Holiday inflatables came out when he was about 10 and that was all we needed to add to the hysteria.  The "button" ordered a spider from a magazine and we blew that bad boy up and he nailed it to the roof.

He loved when people would comment about that spider.  

And somewhere in the midst of all of this, Halloween traditions began.
We pass out "big candy bars (always Hershey), have Cider and water for the kids, fires, shots, you name it.  We embraced ghosts and goblins.

Until this year.  I didn't even carve a pumpkin.  No spray painted pumpkins and no glitter either.  I just didn't have my Halloween hype as in years before.  No clam chowder in the crock pot, nothing.

Addie had driver's ed training, Walker football practice and they both got home and either went to a girl friend's house or the boyfriend came here.  No costumes, no help, no fun.  No adults, no fire, very few kids.  

I was feeling it and a text came.  "Missing our Halloween's in the past.  We had such good times.  Hope you all are doing well."

Ahhhha, it wasn't just me.  Another mom as well was feeling it.

Another mom chimes in, "Me too."

And another, "we had no kids."

Misery loves company, I suppose.  I just sat there with my empty, quiet porch steps, when suddenly three adults appeared.  

These three adults and their goblins "were regulars Halloween night."  But there the adults were there because the kids had come and gone and were "out on their own."

And there you have it, my pity party because my kids are growing up.  Christmas, Easter and now Halloween.  Franklin and I chatted with our adult goblin friends and we all felt it. We talked about where we might move in the next two years as our kids graduate from High School and what the future might hold for us.  

They left and I gathered up some of the outside decorations with sadness.  All these years of Halloween hysteria are dried up.

The kids have moved on and I didn't give them permission, they did it on their own.  Damn, I hate it when my kids do what I have taught them and become independent.

And I missed my oldest child, my "button", my Halloween kid.  I missed the relationship we once had and the Halloween anticipation and excitement he created.

His shooter was just sentenced to 50 years (he's 40) and transported to a prison.  The shooter got 50 years and the button got the life sentence.  But the justice system was fair.

The button does not speak to us, he is still that angry.  I get it, kind of, a little I guess.  I mean if you are going to be angry at someone, chose those people that never will give up on you.  Makes sense.  But the pain,  well it is immeasurable.

So I had my tiny pity party cleaning up the yard and blowing out luminaries by myself.  The neighborhood was quiet and calm, no hint of bonfires or wishing lanterns.

I couldn't help but wonder, is this a sign of things to come?  Will I be this sad at the "last wrestling match or football game?"  Was this feeling going to come every time we had one of those 'last moments?"

I went inside and folded laundry.  My heart was sad.

I thought about my lone Trick-or-Treater who got out of the car and walked alone down the walk.  He did the "trick-or-treat" and he had some lemonade, chose a Hershey bar and he sat down on the steps.  He sat there just drinking his lemonade in comfortable silence and he says, "You know, I have been coming to your house for ten years now and I don't even know your name."

I laughed and said, "well you have been coming here for ten years and I don't know yours either."

We laughed.  I asked him where his friends were and he said, "they slow him down."  
I laughed.  He got up, handed me his cup for the trash bag and said, "Happy Halloween, thanks for having me.  See you next year."

I have no idea who he is, the goblin/zombie with the fabulous makeup job, or his name, where he is from, or anything about him.  I just hope he keeps coming back for the next couple years.  

Next year, the bash is back, not letting the Halloween Heartache haunt me for a year.  Get ready cause my kids are going to grow up and be in a hurry to get there, but I know the real secret they haven't figured out, adulthood sucks.  Halloween only sucks if you let it.

The NEW Normal

It has been almost 30 days since Florence came to visit us.  She overstayed her welcome and then the end, she stank like fish, literally.

During that last 30 days, the word "Normal" come up in almost every conversation.

Conversations are guarded at first.  You approach someone or are approached and you are hesitant to ask how they have fared through Florence.  There are only two responses, "Fine, we are so blessed", or "we lost just about everything".

And shortly after this exchange, somebody says,"I just cannot wait to get back to normal."

The new normal is this, survivor guilt, tree trimming services, mosquitoes, flies, stench, debris, PTSD, mold removal services, dry wall specialist, Disaster Relief Fundraisers,
FEMA claims, insurance adjusters,stagnant water,  roofers, painters, displaced families, adjusted school years, mold and mildew specialists and chain saw sounds.  This is the new NORMAL and it is here to stay.

Someone said the piles of debris on the sides of the road were like dirty piles of snow plowed into the parking lots after a big snow storm.  The piles of debris and the flies are a constant reminder of the Florence and her wrath.  Piles of disappointment, sadness and "what next?"  They are heartbreakers.

Most of us have never been a part of a Natural Disaster of this magnitude before and chances are, we will not ever again.

But, this is our "New Normal."

Yesterday, on my way to work, I traveled with Disaster Relief trucks on either side of me.  Behind me were the last of the power company trucks.  In the closed Ghetto K-Mart, the Service Master trucks were getting ready to caravan.  Further down the parking lot, about 25 tree removal trucks.

As I took my exit, I looked over at the Disaster Relief Truck and the passenger looked at me.  I gave him the thumbs up sign.  I know they are on their way to Florida.  As they should be.

Our "New Normal" comes with a very humbling feeling.  Franklin told his brother to "crank up the air in your house cause you are going to need that cool air."  You appreciate power, water, cable, wi fi, cellular phones, all of those basic privileges we have come to treasure.

But more importantly, your heart is humbled.  When I saw those trucks, my heart broke and swelled all at the same time.  I know these people are earning money, but that isn't the point.  They too are displaced from their families but they are kind and helpful.  They know how important the jobs they do are and to victims of the storm.

After 9-11, everyone went out and bought flags and proudly displayed those flags in homes and businesses.  People were kinder.  And slowly, things went back to normal. The flags tattered so they were taken down and not replaced.  

After Florence, I was blown away by the generosity, the kind hearts, the helping hands, the support, the smiles and the hugs.  One day when I was sitting in the gas line, the man in front of me obviously saw his friend and jumps, and I mean jumps out of his truck. He talks to his friend and then in the middle of the gas station line, he takes his pants off (jeans) and says, "I would give you my shirt but it smells, take my pants, that's the least I can do for you man cause you just have yours, take mine."  He turned around in his boxers and got in his truck.  

I loved it.  It is here to stay.  When you stand at curb and decide which of your child's belonging you are going to keep or throw away, it stays with you forever. 

And I love that it continues.  I love that 30 days later, there is still giving and helping.

There is not a person in Eastern Carolina who doesn't feel for those folks in the Panhandle.  Instead, you feel it, really feel the compassion and empathy for each one of those people.

Last night as the power flickered or went off and the winds blew, I felt a bit of angst.  I guess it is still so fresh.  

The "New Normal" means bigger hearts, helpful hands and humbled actions, all recipes for success and moving forward.

Continue to prosper and walk forward Eastern Carolina.  Panhandle, our hearts are with you to do the same.  

Two nieces, One stair Stepper and Some Engagement Rings

My brother and sister-in-law blessed our family with two wonderful girls, Emma and Allison.

If you remember the Patty Duke show, they are the Patty Duke show.  Total opposites but thick as thieves.

Emma is "a Bahneman" through and through.  Organized, bossy, never misses a good time, flashy dresser and could not wait to be engaged and get married.  

Allison is "an Ammann" through and through.  Late, procrastinates, over the top cerebral, vegan and tofu, only chooses colors the Amish wears and was taken back by her engagement.

Despite their differences, they have rings on their fingers.  Bridal Ballooza has begun.

We cannot wait. Lately, I have been spending a crazy amounts of time on Pintrest and creating boards.  

So happy they are happy.

I have been going to the gym and have not seen the Marine or the Stair Stepper in months, months.  

I have been going at different times and have not run into the Marine or his group and the Stair stepper.  Not going to lie, I missed them and was a tad bit concerned.

Yesterday, I ran into the post office.  When I was walking back to my car, the Stair Stepper was walking out of a local restaurant.  She had a bag of take out under her arm.  It was her.  She looked over and because I had just left the gym, I had my "gym wear" on.  She waved at me.  I  waved back.  It was her, my stair stepper.  I needed the scoop.

So, I walked over to her.  She smiled and I said, "Where have you been, I haven't seen you in months?"

She smiled and said, "I got a new job.  I have been in Charleston.  This is my last weekend so I am just wrapping everything up.  I did go to the gym earlier but this is my last day here."

Yes, my heart sank.  I don't hide feelings well.  The Marine, what about the Marine?  

"I am so happy for you. Charleston is my favorite city ever.  So happy for you, you are a nurse, aren't you?"

"Yes, I got a new job there is a the medical center.  Getting a job at the Medical Center there has been a professional goal for me."  (I knew she was a nurse).

"Well I am just so happy for you."  (clearly, I sounded a bit sad).  (what about the Marine?)

And then she said, "I did get a going away present" and she whipped out her hand that had been under the take out.  

There is it was, the rock.  

Not going to lie, I screamed with happiness.  I do not even know the names of this couple but I have been cheering them on and their love.

She laughed so hard.  She said, "Jay even mentioned his gym mom would be happy for us".

I am so glad he said gym mom and not "elderly lady from the gym."

His name is Jay and I learned they are deployed.  She doesn't know when or where they will end up but her goal was to get a job in Charleston so she went to fulfill her last single girl dream while he was deployed.  I love this couple.  

I gave her a sweaty hug and wished them well, and congratulated her on her new job and told her I was so proud of her for going for it and even threw in there that my husband and I lived there and got married on the beach at IOP.  She smiled.  

And, as I was walking to my car, I yelled back at her, "and tell that handsome Marine of yours I was routing for him the whole time and I am proud of him for going for it!"

She cracked up. Unlocked her car door and that was the last I will no doubt ever see of her.

And while I am certainly sure I will not be invited to a wedding where I do not even know the name of the bride, I am happy for the upcoming nuptials and that love lives and grows.

When I was pregnant with Walker, I read every book I could.  It was just sixteen years ago and there were pregnancy books, not apps.

Anyway, I did everything I could.  

I had an agenda, gestation period, room ready, thank you notes written, name picked, everything.

Kind of like the name of this blog....things happened.  

After birthing the 9 pound 11 ounce bruiser, while I was in recovery, we discovered my uterus ruptured.  It was serious, nine hours later, I was finally wheeled to my room and finally got to see my baby.

I didn't get to go home when I wanted, had to bled tons of blood and somewhere during all that, the way I thought birth a baby would happen, did not happen.

During all my pregnancy prep, breastfeeding was at the top for me for so many reasons.

So after 42 years of carrying enormous breasts around, they didn't work.

I would spend an entire day hooked up to an automatic breast pump to get a half cup of breast milk.  I did this for a month.  One night, in the spirit of help, Franklin nuked the half cup.  You cannot nuke breast milk.  I had the meltdown of epic proportion and my mom came in and said, "stop it, just stop it.  Give it up, give him formula, he will be fine.  Stop it, this isn't working, you tried, you tried hard now end it."

I did.  I ended it.  He is 16 and a beast.  My mom was right.

A few month later, after I delivered Adeline, the La Leche ladies visited my room.

"This is your second child, you ARE going to breast feed, right?"

When I looked up at those ladies and said, "I am not so sure."

"What? No breast feeding?"

I was scorned by society within hours of delivering my second child.

Those ladies are awesome and I appreciate them, but with a typical sales mistake, they never asked how my previous experience was, they just assumed.

My intentions were certainly to breastfeed but I was preparing myself to not be able to again so if I could not and did not produce milk again, I would not be so hard on myself again.
I also did not divulge to the ladies that I had my electronic pump in my suitcase and had planned on hooking up to it before they even arrived.  It all worked out.

That moment when I told the volunteers, "I am not so sure..." and the judgment that flowed so quickly from them is what it is like when you say "I am not evacuating."

Eleven days ago, I watched a red dot moving in the ocean.  The forecaster introduced my to Florence and said, "it is going to be a whopper and is one to watch."

I did.  I didn't tell my family, it was eight days away.  Last Sunday, it was something to watch.

And so it began, "Franklin, it is a four, what are we doing?"  "Wait patiently, things will change, but let's get ready."

"If it is a four, I'm out of here."

"Ok, but I am staying.  Let's get ready first, things will change."  He was right.

My husband got to North Carolina because he lost everything in Andrew.  Andrew was a five.  He takes hurricanes seriously.  He stayed during Andrew.  He watched his wash and dryer fly through the house and end up in his pool.  He gets it.  But, he also knew that at the very last minute, Andrew took a left that wasn't predicted and changed the course of his destiny.  

And so it started.  The Florence Follies.  Here are just SOME of the things that you need to do before a Hurricane.  Keep in mind, it is ALWAYS 200 degrees of 98% humidity when you are doing these things.

1. Get and keep a full tank of gas in the car.
2.  Check insurance
3.  Get cash  (ATMS use electricity)
4.  Pull out boards from garage.
5.  Hang boards.  
6.  Get out generator.
7.  Start up generator.
8. Fix generator if needed.
9. Get gas for generator.  Lots of gas.
10.  Make sure there is pet food and kitty litter for the outside cats who are going to lose it during the storm.
11.  Get insurance documents printed and seal in double zip lock bags.
12.  Pack suitcases.
13.  Do laundry and run dishwasher.
14.  Gather precious items.  Store in container.  (This act takes me hours)
15.  Remove picture from the walls.  Hide under floor furnishings.
16.  Continue to work at current job.
17.  Remain cool.
18.  Go thru freezer.
19.  Make grocery list and risk life in the grocery store.
20.  Get more gas.

And after all of this, the question remains, "Should we stay or should we go?"

As the kids got wind of this, no pun intended, they said, "let's stay.  We want to stay."

As the red circle spun, and the storm was downgraded, we decided to stay.  Franklin was very transparent with them about what it would be like, it had been awhile since there was a bigger storm and they don't remember, and he said, "all hands on deck."

I know two things about my husband, he would  never put me or any of his children in harm's way.

Franklin and Walker were in charge of the boarding and the generator.

Addie and I took over outdoor furniture and the inside.

We finished.  

Thursday morning we got up, the rain started and the power went out before the first rain band went over our house.

And so it began.  

I understand that if I was sitting at home and I saw a Category 4 Hurricane, 3 even a 2, I would be the first one who would say, "What crazy person would stay?"

Yes, I would be that person.  

I started writing this blog on Friday.  Added on Saturday.  It is Tuesday morning and I have changed so many things.  

I read several reasons why folks stay during hurricanes.  "Afraid of death, not afraid of death, irresponsible and all kinds of things."  

Here is why I will always stay (unless it is a Five) from now on.


1.  We spoke to one another.  Yes, we spoke to one another WITHOUT any distractions.  Conversations.  Lots of them.  Connected conversations.  All unplugged.

2.  We learned to FLOSS.  


3.  We lived in a house that was easily 98 degrees inside.  We slept in it.    We survived.
We learned to appreciate air conditioning.

4.  My kids took naps, together.  They talked.  Nothing was distracting them.  They had conversations that didn't involved Snapchat or streaks or stories.

5.  We worked outside in the rain in soaking wet shoes and socks and they lived.  

6.They learned to get a pitcher and a bowl and bathe with a bowl and a pitcher, Washcloth and soap.

7.  Sunday night I made dinner.  It was a mismatch of everything that needed cooked.  Walker said the prayer and we held hands.  Walker prayed for peace and comfort  to others.

8.  We watched a Western together.  

9.  We saw so much devastation.  So much.  It was heartbreaking.  We saw grown men cry in their homes that are now totally ruined.  And we saw a new widow cry when an army of helpers showed up to clean her yard.  

10. My kids were humbled.  They had "swamp ass" and had to keep going.  Air conditioning is a privilege, not a necessity.

11.  When we got the word that the local pizza joint was opened, cheese or pepperoni, Franklin stood in line for a "cash only" pizza.  My kids have never been so appreciative for a pizza ever.  It was good to be without. 

12.  My kids worked like mules for four days.  No monies were exchanged.  They worked to fuel their hearts.  They didn't really get it at first, but they quickly figured it out.  

13.  In a world of Ipads, I pods and I phones, my kids saw that some things are not in an instant anymore.  It will take some folks months to fix and resume the lives they knew.  They saw this.

Look, I get it.  It makes sense, leave.

But you leave and you cannot return.  You leave and your cannot fix.  Two of the folks we visited today would have lost everything if they would have evacuated.  And I get it, it is stuff...just stuff but  you stay because you it is yours and you want to protect.  I also think that traveling on the highway with 2.3 million hysterical drivers is insane and sitting through a hurricane is safer.

Franklin and I have seen grown men cry in their trashed bedrooms as water streams out of electrical outlets or pregnant women sift through flooded belongings and look over at the garage and say, "He was making the baby the crib but his tools are ruined." And in both instances, both said, "But, we are so blessed."

I saw a second of the looting video on the Internet, the scene from Wilmington.

Trust me, that is NOT the real scene.  Folks are kind, dirty, hot sweaty, tired and sad but most importantly, KIND.  Rallying around one another and helping out.  Volunteering, giving back.  

 Coastal Carolina, we are now the victims of a natural disaster.  We stop and wave at lineman and praise the sun in the morning.  We need sun.  The root, the core of all of this, we love where we live.  We are proud of our home and our small towns.  

We stayed (and trust me, many, many, many left) but we stayed to save our businesses, our homes and our community.

Rome wasn't built in a day but our schools will be repaired and the gasoline lines will disappear.  The term "War zone" will subside and "the Lovely Crystal Coast" will be the replacement.

I have loved watching my daughter dance but seeing her on a ladder, unscrewing screws with a power tool and removing boards made my face beam.

Walker loves chainsaws now more than Oreos.  I am getting him one for Christmas.  

The lessons and the being humbled, that would have happened in regardless in a situation of this magnitude, I am just glad we were there from the beginning.  Would I do it again, yes.  Was it hell?  Yes.  Would I do it again?  Yes.  Was staying worth it? Yes.

Just like breastfeeding, I had all the best plans.  It wasn't supposed to be.  Sometimes that is the case.  You start out thinking one thing and bam! you are redirected.  Sometimes a witch like Flo comes in and redirects you.


If you want to support our area, make a trip, eat in the local restaurants, shop and take a chartered fishing trip.  

Shine on Crystal Coast!

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: The Officer and the Stair Stepper

it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: The Officer and the Stair Stepper: In December, I tore my meniscus.  Gone were those beach walks and I had to break up with my running partner. After a trip to the doctor,...

The Officer and the Stair Stepper

In December, I tore my meniscus.  Gone were those beach walks and I had to break up with my running partner.

After a trip to the doctor, he said, "I wouldn't recommend surgery, I recommend an elliptical machine about 12 weeks."

So, I joined a gym.  Nothing against gyms.  Nothing.  I just don't join a club for matching gym outfits and put on makeup to go to the gym.  I wear my Do it for Drew shirt and my black Nike shorts.  My goal is no makeup and fabletics.

And, I don't go to classes or talk to anyone.  I just go and do.  No muss, no fuss.

In January, I noticed that later in the evenings, a group of Marines, all ages and sizes would come in and work out together.  There are about 9 or 10 Marines.  They come in, work out, shower and go to dinner on Thursdays.  

The only interaction I had with the Marines was they would open the door, say hello, goodnight and politely use a machine first.  They were handsome and kind.  

In late January, she came in.  She is lean and lovely.  She looks like a Ralph Lauren model or an equestrian.  Long dark hair, pony tail, baseball cap, looks straight away and stair steps.  For hours.  She is a serious stair stepper.  Like me, she doesn't talk to anyone, doesn't mingle or go to a class, she just stair steps.  For ever.  

She is lovely.  No lie, one of the prettiest girls I have ever seen.  She wears zero makeup and I am convinced she is a nurse.  I am not sure why, she just looks like a nurse.  

One of the Marines, the youngest and the smallest Marine, noticed her immediately.  I saw him looking over at her every chance he could. She only looks straight ahead.

For weeks, she stepped and he would sneak glances.  I would watch this from my perch on the elliptical machine.  

Finally, late one Thursday evening, she came down off the stair stepper and walked out.  The officer jumped up and ran, no lie, ran across the gym and jumped up on a chair to look out the window.  "If she is in a mini van, my obsession ends tonight."  

And he perched up to the windows and sneaked a peek and then shouted joyfully, "YES!  A sports Coupe."

At that, he looks over at me (the only remaining person in the gym beside his Muscle Marines) and gives me that "please don't tell her what I just did" look.

I smile at him and move my hand over my lips and to zip them.  His secret was safe with me.  I was so cheering for him.  He was the kind of man I could see my Adeline with in a few years.  The mom in me wanted him to succeed.  The female in me wanted to see a courtship.

His fellow Marines laughed and told him to shower so they could go for the Thursday night ritual.  

Night after night, she stepped.  He stood across the gym and watched.  She never made eye contact with him.

One night, he walked over.  He got on the machine beside her and smiled at her.  She looked at him and that was it.  It was progress.

This went on for weeks. He would work out, she would step, he would come over, get on the machine beside her, smile at her and watch her when she was finished.

Until that night.  He introduced himself to her.  She smiled and told him her name.  What I wouldn't have done for the radio not to be blaring Megadeth.

They chatted while she stepped.  She left.

Weeks this was the routine.  

I walked into the gym, got on my machine, looked over at the Marines and realized the Officer was missing.  I hoped he didn't get deployed.  

And then, he walked in.  But he was not alone.  He was with her and they were holding hands.  When they walked in, he looked over at me and I winked at him.  My heart was screaming,"YES!" but I just winked.  He smiled.  A teeth showing smile.  

It was June.  The Officer worked from January to June for this moment.  God Bless him.

She went over to the stair stepper and he joined his Marines.  The Marines never said a word.  She never looked over. 

When it was time for her to leave, she waved.  Not a "see you later wave" but a wave with all of her fingers fluttering at him.  She was going home and he was going out with the Marines.  It was Thursday night.  I was proud of him for going and proud of her for allowing the ritual to continue.  

Tonight when I left the gym, Addie called me.  She asked me, "did you see the Marine and the girl?"  

"NOPE!".  I was disappointed I had not seen them.  


And as I drove to the light, there across from me, in a truck, windows open was the Officer and the Stair Stepper decked out in sunglasses, laughing.

Courtship.  I hope it comes back in style.