Tribute (No, not Tenecious D.)

She had known during their first conversation she would marry him. She not been particularly pleased about it at the time, she remembered.  No, that was a serious understatement,  considering the solitary and selfless life she had envisioned for herself. Blame everything that ended up happening on that silly little hand-made valentine, a simple red construction paper heart glued firmly to a crisp white doily. He had created it especially for her among children during the church service. His hand-written message, Happy Valentine's Day, Princess had crashed through her resolve. Funny, the things that can slip through seemingly impenetrable walls, she mused. Who could have considered the power of one simple hand-made card?

The message in his Valentine card delivered this morning to her bedside with a soft kiss and  steaming china mug of french roast exactly 37 years later had triggered these thoughts of their first days. He had caught a glimpse of someone buried deep inside her all those years ago. He had seen a princess  hiding terrified and shattered underneath her tightly-wrapped robe of promises---precious promises that the old was gone and the new had come. He married her before  summer in a big church wedding during a dust storm. She didn't want to wear a white dress and her mother finally compromised by sewing tiny yellow bows onto the skirt of the traditional white dress. Poor man didn't have a clue what he'd gotten himself into.

Having gotten a wife he considered a princess, he had gone about the business of being a knight-in-shining-armor. And he had continued that business at least 5 days a week without much audible grumbling. Today was no exception. He leaned down to kiss her, wrapped snugly in the covers with her journal before his last trip out to their dented, silver Grand Caravan. She noticed his hair had been dampened by the pre-dawn drizzle on the two previous trips loading the van with the necessary items for his upcoming day: a small cooler, a brief case, a heavily loaded backpack, and his teaching attire for later - a dress shirt with the day's tie of choice. He has quite a collection of "conversation-starting" ties. Earlier today as he draped a tie over the hanger he informed her that Waldo loved to go to school; the tie was covered with Waldo of the book, Where's Waldo.

He turned back to me when he reached the bedroom doorway and said with his usual morning grin,

"I'm off to kill the dragon!" 

I heard him open and close the front door, heading out for another dark to dark day without complaint. Valentines Day would resume when he returned in about 14 hours.

   "Who knew back then that  an unkempt, bass guitar playing, Bible-toting, carpenter would become the hero I know today?" she wondered. "And who knew that my self righteous, people-pleasing, church lady hid the free spirit I truly am. Back then we were just two kids who had nothing in common besides music, God and a desire to be together. Between then and now all those areas would be reformed and recreated, just as we were. Boy, were we.