sick weekend
This was going to be the Weekend of Love. I arrived late Saturday night, driving into town straight from a show that lasted till nearly midnight, to be with my wife. We did the usual Sunday morning things, but then we were to have the evening Sunday and all day Monday and Monday night together.
Then we got sick. Catherine started feeling terrible, and I started feeling terrible too. All our plans of love and romance were scrapped; we've just been sitting around tending each other.
Then again, what better weekend could there have been? We've had the privilege of serving each other for a couple of days now, reaffirming our vow to remain together in sickness and health. And certainly it's better than if we'd been sick separately, in different towns, without each other to lean on.
One does wish, though, that blessings didn't always seem to come in such bitter wrapping.
Then we got sick. Catherine started feeling terrible, and I started feeling terrible too. All our plans of love and romance were scrapped; we've just been sitting around tending each other.
Then again, what better weekend could there have been? We've had the privilege of serving each other for a couple of days now, reaffirming our vow to remain together in sickness and health. And certainly it's better than if we'd been sick separately, in different towns, without each other to lean on.
One does wish, though, that blessings didn't always seem to come in such bitter wrapping.
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