My husband is a great man. I don’t know if he thinks of himself that way, but I sure do.
I’m an author. When I first started saying that to people, I had to think about it first. I went by ‘writer’ for a long time, waiting for something more official to make me an author. Now I say it without hesitation. “I’m an author.” My husband told me to do that
Feels good. It’s also a little scary. I don’t have a steady income yet. I’m in the ‘work hard and stay hopeful’ phase, before any money comes in and this situation becomes practical. And the only reason I’m here is because of my husband. He’s the guy keeping me focused. He’s the guy who leaves me notes on my computer telling me ‘good job’ and ‘keep going.’ He’s the guy who will end up in the dedication because, in a not-at-all-trite way, he really did make this possible.
Right now, he’s also working a second job and trying to juggle the finances so that I can do this long enough for my ship to come in. That’s what he knows—work hard, and then work harder.
He’s tired. I see it in his face and in his movements. He works hard and then can’t sleep at night because he’s thinking about work and about us and about the family and about money.
I know it will happen. Someday I’m going to surprise him with a new car and tickets for a cruise around the world, with a 24 hr. buffet and name-brand entertainment. I want to go places, just the two of us, a year-long honeymoon anniversary on me.
Here’s to the people in the background, cheering us all on. Huzzah!