True Love

Growing up the way I did, I started noticing the differences in my life compared to those of my friends. I would hear my friends say, "Daddy got so mad because mama spent his money." I never heard that growing up. Or, "daddy won't go because mama won't let him." The thing that scared me the most was when one of the girls in my school class said, "Well if daddy won't let me, I will just tell mama and do it when I go over to her house this weekend." My parents have always lived in the same house-together. With their children-together, and you could bet the farm that if you told one, the other would find out. As a kid I hated that! I wanted to be able to get an answer from one parent and it be final. That didn't happen till I was a senior in high school. The usual answer is, "It is okay with me but you need to ask your daddy." Which was like the kiss of death for anything! But I did get to do a lot of the things I wanted growing up. We didn't take 3 week long vacations to Europe, but if we got a 3 day weekend we always went tent camping. Some of my favorite memories growing up are from times we were just sitting around a campfire talking to each other and eating biscuits out of my cardboard oven that amazed daddy. We didn't drive new cars but we had good ones. The car I got when I was 16 was mama's hand me down. I still drive it, 310,100 miles later. She even has a name, we call her Bonnie and that is how we refer to her all the time. Even grandpa will tell me to take care of Bonnie. We went fishing off the banks of the river, we got to see the monster truck show when it came to Tallahassee, and we attended church together every Sunday. We have a tradition of decorating the Christmas tree together and us kids slept in the same bed on Christmas Eve night. We were just always together, loving, laughing, fighting, playing, and even eating. We still eat dinner around the table together. That is how dedicated my parents were. I am so blessed with good parents who were united in decision making and everything else. My parents have a joint checking account. They both do house work, yard work and take care of the kids. They both came to softball games, band concerts, beta club induction, football banquets, cheerleader tryouts, graduations, and any and everything in between. My sister is 17 years old, junior in high school and Wednesday daddy went to her softball practice after work, watched them the whole time, picked her up and took her to church, which at most is 200 yards away. She is perfectly capable of crossing a field to get to the church but daddy was there. There have been many times in my life that my parents were there and I didn't even realize how blessed I really was. But the thing I probably love the most is the small things that they do for each other. Not the dozen roses that cost you an arm and a leg, but the everyday little sweet things. On Elijah's birthday Daddy left Mama a pack of her favorite PEEPS on the steering wheel of her car. His little way of telling her how grateful he was for the sacrifice she made 25 years earlier in having my brother, which was not an easy task and only got harder as we grew older. He washes the dishes when he is home and cooks more than mama most of the time. But mama has had her fair share of shining moments too. What other woman would buy her husband a boat for Father's Day, or ANOTHER gun to add to the arsenal he already has? Which he loved but the cordial cherries around Christmas really stole his heart. She always does his computer work for him and makes sure he knows how much money is in their account. She kisses him hello and good bye every time they part company. She loves for him to be in the woods as much if not more than he does, not because she wants him gone but because she wants him to be happy and she knows that is one of the places he finds joy. She has hemmed every single pair of pants the man owns, and never once did she complain when he was Bishop about him having to go early or stay late or go in the middle of the night to sick peoples homes. She just prayed for him to be safe and sent him out the door. For my parents it's not about fancy clothes or jewelry, houses, cars, or keeping up with the Jones. It is about all the small things. The little tiny things that are hard to see on a day to day basis. Flowers for no reason, a text to let her know that he was thinking about her, new dining room chairs without being asked, supper on the table, all the things that go unmentioned but noticed. That is how I want it one day. The poor man that marries me! He has some pretty big shoes to fill. They are the best example. They are not perfect but the love they share almost is, as well as their children! *wink*wink* Because of their example those are things that I want when I finally settle down and get married. A dozen roses that someone else arranges and delivers is nice but a hand full of ditch flowers waiting in a mason jar on the counter when I get home says, "not only do I love you but I am willing to do something to show you that." A "good morning" text is better than any Shakespeare and letting me have the first drive in your truck wins my heart. Saying yes ma'am to my mama and working on stuff with daddy means more to me than any Olympic gold metal. Loving my kids and treating them like I was treated growing up will pretty much make me yours for eternity! To quote the Lady Antebellum song American Honey, "She grew up on a side of the road/ Where the church bells ring and strong love grows /She grew up good/She grew up slow/Like American honey. Having parents like mine is the richest of all blessings, and how sweet it is, like our Tupelo Honey!

~AzK~