Let me call You Sweetheart

I watched Sandi leave the house as I stood by her car door. I didn’t need to open her car door; she was perfectly able to do it herself. I wanted to do it, though. I decided long ago that we would remain newlyweds, no matter how many years we were married.

As I stood waiting, I pondered on that question. What did I have to do for us to remain newlyweds? Opening a car door? This is too easy. Listening to her instead of watching TV? Everybody should do that. Speaking (and thinking) only the best of her? Piece of cake. Offering a helping hand or the choicest tidbit? Ridiculous. Calling home when I get to work or before I leave? This is absurd! How can people not do these things for the ones they love?

It wasn’t always easy. Two a.m. feedings and the unending work with newborns and toddlers kept us from our beloved and delightful chats. Wrestling two occupied car seats into the car kept me from opening her door. Knowing this wouldn’t last, I bided my time and did whatever I could. When the boys could enter the car and buckle up by themselves, though, I knew my moment had re-arrived and I launched into it with the zeal of the truly committed.

Sandi walked up and I swung the door open wide for her to enter.

“Thank you, Sweetheart,” she said and gave me a quick, but lingering kiss. I waited until she was safely inside and carefully closed the door. Sandi’s warm smile followed me through the glass as I walked around the car.

“We’re still newlyweds,” I thought as I started the engine. Her hand found mine and held it while I drove away. “Oh, yeah, newlyweds with 14 years of experience.”

Bill Bartlett lives in Belton with his newlywed bride, Sandi, and their two sons.