The little orange line hung too comfortably for too long at the bottom of the gas gauge. Before I headed out for the last time to retrieve Angel from camp, I thought it wise to make a stop at the gas station. I waited as the attendant finished filling the tank, for as you know, this Jersey girl doesn’t pump gas. She walked up after a few minutes and handed me a little piece of paper through the window. Her smile couldn’t be helped as she stated, “The gentleman in the car behind you asked me to hand this to you.” You will just have to guess what the handwritten note said, but I smiled too.
This was no mystery man, but my sweet husband. We were traveling together with bikes on the back of the van so he and Angel could enjoy a 20+ mile bike ride back home, stopping half way to pick up his car. I may have known who sent the note, but I am blessed with a husband who shares an element of mystery and surprise in our marriage.
The attendant returned when the tank was filled. She still smiled. I think we made her day to see two people still madly in love, passing love notes in the gas station.
Even after twenty-one years, my sweetie still romances me.
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