The Difference Half an Hour Makes

We've had really bad weather here since yesterday, surprisingly. I didn't think it'd be that bad. Yesterday afternoon, I was in the language lab, when a friend's husband called to say his car was iced over.

When I showed up for class a few minutes early, there was a small group of people waiting. The teacher never did show up, and after ten minutes of waiting, we decided to leave, since they lived as far away as Cabot and Benton. I zipped over to Grandma's, just like normal, and goofed off on the internet. At 10:30, I figured Adam would be home, teasing me about being late. So, I zipped back home, still driving like normal; I didn't look at the interstate to see that those on it were driving slower than I was on Rodney Parham. I sat in my car and listened to the end of a song before I realized Adam wasn't home yet. No big deal, it was only 10:35.

And then, all of a sudden, it became a big deal. I went inside, took my shoes off and went to the bathroom, expecting him to be home any moment. I came back out to the living room and at 10:42 and he still wasn't home. I kept the radio on, talked to Ninja, and then started feeling guilty, because we'd had a minor tiff that morning. I'd also had a conversation with Mom Pearce about how much she doesn't like motorcycles.

A million things started racing through my mind and by 10:50, I was crying hard. I finally called a friend, and told her what was happening. We were only on the phone a few minutes, with her telling me about feeling the exact same way once (funny story, ironically), when I saw the bike in the parking lot. I told her he was there and that I had to go.

He came inside, took off his icy riding gear, and hugged me harder than I remember being hugged in a long time. We talked while eating red velvet cake (that he'd gotten me, because that's what we had at our wedding) and then made our way to bed because I was exhausted from worrying so hard. Before I drifted off to sleep, I told him I'd promised God that I would both love him this much and still argue with him for the next 50 years, if God would keep him around that long. Then it dawned on me that it was Grandma and Grandpa's 59th wedding anniversary and I hadn't told her happy anniversary.

I think I learned my lesson. I can't think of what you say when something like this happens, other than I am grateful Adam is home and safe and hopefully sticking around for the next 50 years!