We got up early today, waking to still delightfully fresh weather. It was a morning full of unspoken anticipation. Tal has been pondering over a new set of golf clubs for months and months, talking to golf pros he trusts, trying out various brands, to me perplexing mixtures of heads and shafts, returning to his old, in reserve set occasionally, all the while biding his time, not wanting to make a precipitous move or to make a costly mistake.
One last conversation. Hitting a final bucket of balls at Mount Vintage late yesterday. A decision made. The set located. Today was the day.
Even though we were out in commuter traffic from the Ridge to Aiken and Augusta and even though we stopped for a Huddle House breakfast along the way and even though we had to contend with I-20 still under construction along our SC/GA route across the Savannah River, we arrived to make the purchase a good half an hour before the store opened. As we sat in the car outside the locked building, I found myself smiling inwardly. That my sweet husband, approaching his 83rd birthday and generally desirous of very little, is able to be this excited about a purchase fills me with delight.
Once the lights came on and the establishment opened, I wandered among the bags, clubs, shirts, shoes while Tal and the salesman did their thing. Again, I was aware of my own pleasure, the set he had wanted having been set aside as promised after he called yesterday and the lone salesman attentive despite several customers vying for his attention, the rest of the staff having been slow to arrive.
What I think I realize here at the end of the day, having had time to ruminate on the experience, is that such is the nature of love. I want the best for Tal and it has done my heart good today to see him full of anticipation. That's part of it. More importantly, though, is seeing him treated well, even honored, in a world that sometimes discounts and overlooks its older citizens. All too often, even if I don't make a move, I feel the urge to step in, to make sure the clerk, the person behind the counter or the desk, is paying attention to this dear, dear man. Today, I didn't have to do a thing but accompany him and to offer congratulations on this long-studied purchase.
It's been a good day. I look back over it contented and grateful.