In one of those horrible realizations
That I could possibly win the anti-award
“Worst Wife Ever,”
I was idly thinking of
My husband’s new business.
He cuts down trees in tight places,
Removes the threats to houses,
Makes the world safe for humanity.
And he has plenty of work,
And plenty of joy,
And a few aggravations,
And he covers his costs, I think.
But a string of bids has left him
Working many days for no pay,
And I start to get cranky.
Until I realized that I, too,
Am learning something new,
Dispensing homeopathic remedies,
Often to good effect,
Sometimes to not.
I feel bad enough
That I’m not perfect.
How much worse if Phil ever said,
“Why didn’t you get it right?”
Instead of his unfailing encouragement to me.
So when Phil returns, exhausted
From another day of hard labor,
But having problem-solved,
And helped, and spent time with people he likes,
May I be a voice for good in his life.
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