I gave a Valentine’s Day present to my husband years ago. The ripples of that gift are still blessing me daily and weekly, and hopefully will continue to do so for years to come.
Even though he might not have thought it, I was listening when my husband told me how much he’d enjoyed the ceramics classes he’d taken in high school. So when, two busy careers and three grown daughters later, I saw the flyer advertising a pottery business taped in the window of the coffee shop, I made note of it and looked them up on line. Seeing they offered classes, I arranged for my husband to have a private session for a Valentine’s Day gift that year.
He enjoyed it as much, if not more, than he had decades before and signed up for regular weekly classes. Wednesdays became our ‘date’ nights, when we’d meet after work and drive to the town some 30 minutes distance to have a quick dinner (usually at the original coffee shop) before he drove a bit farther for class and I stayed at the shop for a few hours, enjoyed a big M&M chocolate chip cookie and wrote.
I’d dabbled in writing before. But I hadn’t developed a discipline. Hump day definitely became a favorite part of the week, him for his pottery class, me for working on writing and also because our daughter, who lived distant, got in the habit of calling me then while she walked from her office to the train station. We’d have wonderful conversations while my husband drove and I chatted.
Several years have passed. We’ve since moved to Missouri and that daughter has moved to Minnesota. My husband now has a small pottery business. I’ve had four books published and daily get to enjoy the process of writing.
I sometimes wonder if things would be different if I’d given my husband a coffee mug as a gift instead of the means to make them. You never know where something might start. Or lead.
I have to go. It’s Wednesday, almost 5 o’clock. My daughter will be calling soon.