…well…it’s not really an office. It’s a tiny little desk pushed off to the side on the outside wall of the nonfiction stacks in our new library. It doesn’t matter. There are no screaming toddlers running around begging for some sugary treat, no baby crying because he’s tired but refuses to sleep. TJ has always been supportive of my writing but he is making the ulitmate sacrifices now.
We’ve agreed that a few times a week I will go to the library, laptop in hand, and write. It’s quiet, it’s out of the house where the laundry screams at me and the dishwasher begs for my attention. He will stay with the kids, feed them dinner and get them off to bed. I could not ask for a better husband! Anyway…back to the writing…here’s just a snippet of what I got done tonite:
“You’re like a little kid at a toy festival. There are a ton of stands and plenty of food. Don’t worry, Sam. You’ll get your fill of ribs,” and with that he reached down and laced his fingers through hers.
“Well, they are my favorite food,” she shrugged as they made their way towards the now longer line to buy their ticket. Samantha stood by his side as they waited their turn to get their wrist band. Samantha stood silently glancing through the crowd to see if any of the lady’s from her woman’s coffee club had shown up yet. As she was glancing around she heard a comment that grabbed her attention.
“I said no, Maria, if you ask me again we’ll get back on that bus and go right on home so we can have a proper discussion about it,” a man’s voice spoke soft but not soft enough to not be over heard. Especially, when Samantha was standing beside him in the next line. It wasn’t so much what the man had said, but more how he had said it. To someone else it may have sounded that he was chastising a child, but she knew that tone. She knew the pitch, the wording, and the meaning behind it.