mental radio

...is when the tunes playing inside my head,

turn out to be the LORD trying to tell me something...

Wednesday, November 10, 2004
 
winter texan season

It's beginning to be Winter Texan season down here. More and more cars are showing up around here with license plates from Minnesota and Iowa and Sasketchawan and such. A couple of times I have even seen plates from Alaska! That's a long, long drive from here!

Winter Texans is what we call them - the retirees from the upper regions of North America who come down here in their RV's to escape from the darker colder months of the year. Coming down here to subtropical Texas, where it never ever snows.

(Well...)

(A couple of years back, there was a rumor of a snow flurry in the town 50 miles east of here.)

(A snow flurry. Singular. One lonely flurry.)

(Getting back to what I was saying before I interrupted myself...)

Those of you who read my blog regularly (all two of you) know that I am a widow. And a fairly young one, too, coming up on 44 now.

(I don't mind telling my age, and wouldn't mind listing it on my Blogger profile - except that when I filled out the form for the profile and submitted it, I found to my horror that instead of the profile page simply displaying my birthdate, the thing converted the day and month of my birth into an astrological sign, and translated the year into a Chinese year-of-the-critter thing. So I, who find astrology of all stripes annoying to put in mildly - and blaphemous idolatry to put it bluntly - promptly took my birthday back down off the Blogger profile.)

(My birthday is 31 Dec 1960. See, I don't mind everyone knowing that.)

(And now if Rambling Rosie will finally get to her point...)

I had just turned 41 when my husband died, almost 3 years ago. Which is fairly young to be a widow. (Although I have met one online who was 18!) It was Winter Texan season then too, and I would walk into the store to do my shopping...

...and see all these retired couples going around the store together, gathering their groceries. Little old ladies with their little old husbands by their sides. And I would have a hard time inside myself to not feel cheated. That that was not going to be me roaming round the store with my husband beside me.

Really had to fight hard against that feeling of having been cheated!

So - to all you ladies who still have your husbands with you, who don't have only memories left of his smile and his laugh - cherish that man! Tell him frequently that you love him, and how much.

And always kiss him good-bye, too. Cause you never know if that will be the last kiss you will ever be privileged to give him.

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