A Quiet Man

I used to feel perplexed that my husband didn’t like to talk much. I’m a word person. I always have something to say about everything even if I don’t know what I’m talking about. I even make a living with words. Written and spoken communication is important to me.
I used to wonder, “How do you know how a person feels if they don’t write it down or tell you?” Now I know.
After many years together I have grown to deeply appreciate and respect the quiet man I married. I have discovered that for a male who doesn’t say a lot, my husband sure knows how to communicate “I love you” in a thousand different ways.
Ross knows I hate to put gas in the car because the gas cap is stubborn and I always hurt my hands trying to pry it off. For some reason gas magically appears in my van whenever it runs low.
Ross knows I feel bad enough when I do something dumb like backing into his company owned truck with our family car. So when I walk into the house all teary-eyed and apologetic, he just hugs me and tells me not to worry.
Ross knows my favorite treat is orange sticks. Whenever I feel a chocolate/orange marmalade attack coming on, a box of orange sticks suddenly appears in my closet.
Ross knows that trees feed my soul. When I look out my kitchen window while washing the supper dishes each evening I see a miniature forest my husband carefully created and maintains for me. Even the wild peasants and deer feel sheltered there.
Ross knows I savor the succulent flavors of just-picked fresh fruits and vegetables. Every spring he prunes and sprays dozens of fruit trees and carefully plants and waters a large garden of vegetables for me to harvest and enjoy.
Ross knows sometimes I feel sad and he can’t fix it. So when I can’t stop crying he takes me in his protective arms and strokes my forehead until I feel better.
Ross knows how much I love children and how I always dreamed of raising a big family. So every single day, without complaint, he goes to work so I can stay home and rock our babies and grandbabies and eventually great-grandbabies.
Ross knows that writing is as important to me as eating. He quietly supplies me with a desk, computer, paper and printer so I can stay in the word business.
Ross knows I need a healthy husband, so every morning he gets up at 5:30 and goes for a five-mile walk. He sacrifices his sleep so all the children and I can have his undivided attention during the evening hours when he returns from work.
Ross knows I crave a clean house and car. He picks up his own dirty socks and takes them to the hamper and hand washes the dirtiest pan after supper. He takes the van to the car wash whenever it gets dirty and even sprays off the mats.
Ross knows I get scared or worried sometimes. So, he knells with me at our bedside every night and invites God into our life as we pray until all my fears go away.
Ross knows I relish good music. He worked hard, saved and then bought a shiny black piano for me instead of a sleek red super power truck for him
Ross knows I enjoy a good laugh. He brings home a funny story or joke every day and makes me chuckle. His cheerful nature invites me to enjoy life’s journey while we ride out the ups and downs together.
Ross knows I am reassured by physical affection and attention. He kisses and hugs me whenever he leaves and whenever he gets home and sometimes he even does it in front of everybody with a huge sweeping dip and passion . . . at church.
Ross knows it brings a sparkle to my eyes when I feel like his queen and sweetheart. So he dances with me in the kitchen, takes me out for a date every week and keeps my bed warm every night.
Even though words are my trade, I have learned that actions always go deeper and speak louder. For a quiet man, Ross communicates remarkably well.