Steal of a Deal
Today I have a guest post by JoAnne Bennett. Enjoy this wonderful story for such the perfect time as this! You can read more from and about JoAnne at www.storiesbyjb.com. Thank you JoAnne for sharing – it's been a pleasure!
A Steal of a Deal
By JoAnne Bennett
I had to have the priceless treasure sitting in the
back of the furniture store. Rushing home to share the steal of a deal with my husband, even his “you have got to be
kidding” look wouldn’t spoil my enthusiasm. Barely listening, he hemmed and
hawed that it would make our already tiny, front room look smaller. My mind was set
into motion on how we would get my cumbersome find home, much less through
our front door.
“C’mon, we’ve got to get it before someone else takes
it,” I tried to convince him.
I don’t know why he would question my good
intentions. In the past, I always managed
to get him to see things my way, or to at least agree with a half- smile of resignation, stating, “I married her.”
Chuckling, I thought back to the time I asked him to peel
a 10-pound bag of potatoes for his own
surprise birthday party.
“You know sweetheart,” I said without a hint of
something up my sleeve, “I don’t make potato salad very often and it sure would
be nice to have some extra.”
He didn’t act at all suspicious as to why I was making
enough potato salad to feed an army; rather he just shook his head, as if my
ambitious undertaking seemed much bigger than our stomachs.
While making our way back to the furniture store, my
husband sat quietly in the car, apparently not too thrilled by my ongoing
“And the kids will just love it,” I tried to assure him.
I was sure he would change his mind when he saw the
object; a humongous empty refrigerator box. The perfect dream for hours of fun
entertainment, but it just wasn’t going to happen.
“This will never fit in our
van,” my husband declared.
“Can we put it on top?” I asked him, feeling like if
there is a will, there must be a way.
“Well, maybe we can just carry it home,” I suggested.
I'd know that “no-way frown” anywhere. Standing behind the
furniture store, my husband was now faced with
the challenge of how to get a box bigger than he was, to our house over a mile away. As he began his long journey toward home, it appeared as though he was dancing with the box with his arms
wrapped around the middle, while trying to walk it several steps directly in
front of him.
I was hoping no one would recognize him because he
would have blamed his irrational behavior on me. Moreover, the thought did
cross my mind that a police officer might stop and ask him what he was doing. I
could picture his irritated reply, “It’s my
new place of residence, better than any dog house.”
My husband decided that
reaching his destination anytime soon was not going to be accomplished with his
snail-paced, dance moves. After asking me not to follow him in the car anymore, I went home and
patiently waited for his arrival. Pacing back and forth, I knew he had every
reason to be unhappy with me. Some time later, my husband came into view,
trudging up the street looking like Santa Claus or the garbage collector. My husband is small in stature; in fact, it would be a
stretch to say he is a tall person. Yet, there he was, completely bent over
with a six-foot refrigerator box balanced on his back.
Totally out of
breath from his journey, I helped him slide the box off his back. It was at that moment when I remembered why I was drawn to him so many years ago. Rather than lying on the ground defeated,
as if he had just run a marathon, he told me how our children’s
playhouse should have lots of cutout windows and a door that opens
and closes. What a wonderful, loving, and forgiving man he is; from the goodness
of his heart, he found a way to share my vision. Those sweetest of memories, as
funny as they are, will forever be captured in my heart.