Saturday was our five-year anniversary. So Sunday night, Rusty came in from the barn in his muddy clothes, his cowboy hat and torn jeans looking incredibly “cowboy-romance novel dreamy” like, and with a smile said, “let’s go out to eat for our anniversary,” since we didn’t get to go Saturday night.
He showered and I added an extra layer of makeup to my face quickly and half an hour later, we were pulling out of the driveway.
“Where do you want to go?” he asked. I thought for a moment. “What are my options?”
“We’ve been married for five years,” he explained, “your options are unlimited for milestone anniversaries.”
I know it sounds crazy, but nothing sounded better than breakfast. So I asked him, “is Cracker Barrell okay?”
He looked at me with his brows lifted. ”Out of anywhere else there is to eat, you want a six dollar plate of biscuits, gravy and bacon? You don’t want to go somewhere…fancy?”
My face scrunched. ”No,” I replied timidly… “Is that okay?”
He laughed– the hearty sound, music to my ears. ”Yeah, that’s okay.” He reached over, put his hands on my knee and smiled. ”That’s the girl I married.”
It’s moments like these when I sigh. Contempt and happiness ooze from my soul and I thank God for the man with his hand on my knee. As we look into our future, I’m excited to have many more anniversaries surrounded by children– products of our love and God’s great blessings. But I’ll remember this one forever. Because I’ll never forget the look of pride in his eyes when he smiled, gave my knee a gentle squeeze and took me to get chocolate milk in a frosty mug. And a six dollar plate of biscuits and gravy with bacon.
