The hour that my husband gets home varies. Some days he breezes in at four in the afternoon; some days he stumbles through our door at eleven at night. There are days when he barely sees his children awake. There are days when he practically doesn’t see me awake. Despite his crazy schedule and hard work, one thing is clear. My children and I have better lives because of the sacrifices made by my husband.

                At night he lies in bed, his body aching. Fourteen hours a day on his feet is beginning to take a toll. In the darkness I see him flexing his hands, trying in vain to relieve the soreness that lies in the joints. I tell him about my day with the boys, trying to keep his mind off the discomfort. I fill the silence with stories of catching frogs, and playing in the sprinkler. I attempt to paint a picture of our day him, to show him what he missed while he was gone. I tell him about the rosemary chicken that I made for dinner, even though the smell lingers in the house. Eventually he gets up and I hear the sound of two Tylenol being shaken from their bottle. I hope they will ease him, and that sleep will come soon.

                He comes home from work annoyed most days. He doesn’t like his job, but knows it is just what must be done for now. We talk wistfully about a better economy, and how maybe one day he can quit. He runs his hands through his ever thinning hair and sighs. He knows he needs to provide for us and he does it willingly. He just wishes he had more options. He wishes he could be home with us on beautiful fall afternoons while we play outside. He wishes he hadn’t missed out preschooler’s first day of school. I try to reassure him and tell him there will be plenty of these moments, but it doesn’t help. I thank him for working so hard so that I can be with our children as much as I am. He just smiles and gives me a kiss on the cheek.

                Our three year old is sick. The babysitter calls me at work to tell him that he has gotten sick all over the house. I call my husband and I tell him he has to go home. He needs to go check on him, and to help the sitter clean up. I will be there as soon as I can, but I can’t leave yet. He doesn’t argue with me, he just goes. In less than ten minutes he is in our house with our children. I arrive less than an hour later and find a familiar scene. The mess is cleaned up and he is snuggling our children. I enter the bedroom and kiss the cheek of each of my three boys. He gives me a quick update and then returns to work. He never complains about the interruption of his shift, and not once arguing that I should have been the one to come home.

                  My children and I have better lives because of the sacrifices made by my husband. There are moments every day that we would not get to experience if he did not work as hard as he does. His willingness to do everything in his power to ensure that I get to spend as much time home with our children as I do is something I will always be thankful for. I am very blessed that I chose this man to raise children with, and even more blessed that he chose me.

I orignially wrote this for my english class, about 2 hours before being afflicted by the plague of a tummy virus that has taken over my house. I love writing desciptive essays.  My teacher loved it, and I thought I would share.

PS- I got an A. heehee.