Leaving on a Jet Plane

Today, about three o'clock in the afternoon, my darling spouse will be ascending from LAX on British Airways and begin winging his way across North America on his trip to Brussells. He arrives at Heathrow, London and grabs a puddle-jumper to Belgium. And all those long flight hours will be miserable - for both of us. Poor Mark will be crowded and I'll worry he won't stretch and walk enough on board to prevent the deep vein thrombosis from returning; he in turn will worry about my being alone for several day here in Los Angeles, where our house is, but not our home. Funny thing, home. Our home is where we are together these days. I don't know any longer if I can thrive without this man, the most precious gift God has ever given to me. Were he not to be near me, his kind, gentle and steadfast manner reassuring - letting me glimpse at love, (it comes from his soul through his eyes, I think). It sounds sentimental and foolish, two grown men turning blue and maybe even tears when one of us wanders off - but so it is. The two shall become one, isn't that the scripture passage? I understand it so completely now. This good brave man who has been my friend, my counselor, a provider AND a needy twirp at times has an easily injured, tender heart worn just beneath his sleeve while showing the world his bright steel armor, the one he wears to fight life's battles. This deeply spiritual man of faith, who distrusts the religions of the world which mostly condemn us as a family, will always reach out with our last few dollars to help someone in greater need. This is the magnificent man whom I have been blessed to marry and whom I will stand before God with one day, thanking Him for giving to me the most precious gift of my life. Mark's love. Come right back home, baby.