It was June 2009 and I was 8 months pregnant with my daughter. Even though pregnancy was wonderful for me, I was struggling to deal with 90 degrees and 90% humidity. I was puffy, tired and hormonal.
My husband’s job required him to travel a lot. This month was no exception. In fact, he had four trips planned for the month. He went to Belize, New York, Las Vegas and Kenya. He was away for 25 of June’s 30 days. I was excited for him but anxious about being alone. On top of this, we were scheduled to move. I called some movers, expecting to manage the move by myself.
To my amazement, he got his friends together and moved us in to a brand-new, air-conditioned condo a week before our scheduled move date and one day before he flew to Kenya. It was more than I had asked for but just what I needed.
His traveling is always bitter-sweet for me. Bitter, because I hate being away from him for any length of time but sweet because others get to experience just a taste of his extraordinary kindness.