After a long stretch of gray skies and bitter cold, the sun rose over Cowee Mountain and stayed the entire day, bringing our temperature up to sixty-four. Simply perfect. From our house, we can see the Little Tennessee River and the Nantahala mountain range, and when I stop long enough to absorb all of that beauty, I wonder why I don't do it more often.
The day started as it usually does. Tom, dressed and ready to leave before the rooster crows, pulled back the down comforter to find my curled up, sleeping body so he could kiss me goodbye, Maggie, seizing an opportunity to get fed again--she was up earlier with Tom and he fed her, but she told me that he forgot; she lied--jumped on my now-exposed back and told me that she was starving, and if I didn't get out of bed and feed her right then, I would regret it. She's always right about that, so I did as I was told.
I followed the wagging tail of a seven-pound Yorkie and the smell of fresh-brewed coffee (thank you, Tom) into the kitchen where I found a note in Maggie's bowl. "If Maggie tells you I didn't feed her, she's lying" and an empty coffee cup on the counter (thank you, Tom). As I was pouring Seattle's Best into the cup Tom left out for me, Maggie stood over her food bowl and waited and waited and waited. I fed her. Well, poor little thing was starving.
I spent my day running errands in Franklin (population: 3,500), stopping for lunch at our Amish Deli (best sandwiches in Macon County), working out at the gym, making my daily stop at Lowes, and visiting friends, Sue and Joe, at their incredible cabin that Joe and their son built. Maggie went with me to town, and, except for when she tried to break through the car window to kill a Pit Bull sitting in the car next to ours at Lowes, she was simply perfect.
On my way home, Tom called from Asheville to ask if I'd like to have dinner with our friends, Ken and Laura, at Lulu's in Sylva. I don't have to cook tonight? You betcha! I dropped Maggie off at our house and drove over the Cowee Mountain to the next small town north of Franklin. Delicious meal! Wonderful friends! Great way to end the day. But wait! There's more.
As Tom and I were driving back to Franklin, I turned on the radio, which is something I rarely do. (I like being alone with my thoughts in a silent car.) The night was pitch black, Tom and I were in separate cars but together in tandem, me first, then him. There was no one else on the winding road (or so it seemed) except for me and my husband...this man I love so much that I can't imagine life without him, yet the day will come, one of us will be gone, I hope I go first--I think too much, turn up the radio--but right now we are alive, in love, and driving fast, but not too fast, taking the sharp turns with the finesse and precision of race car drivers (Tom was one). Simply perfect.
I turned the radio up and...
Every long lost dream
led me to where you are.
Others who broke my heart,
they were like Northern Stars,
pointing me on my way into your loving arms
Rascal Flatts was singing our song. It was all so magical. As we turned on to the narrow mountain road that leads to our house, Tom passed me. It occurred to me at that moment that I should have included my race car driver husband on the list of "cool" people I know. He let me lead for most of the way and on the fourth turn, he passed me.
I pulled into our driveway as he was backing his truck up to the garage. My husband is not only handsome, funny, and smart; he's also cool. Then he climbed out of his truck and walked like a penguin to the garage.
Simply perfect!
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