I don’t know if he’d approve of me sharing this, but I’m going to anyway.
Husband is a punk. Plain and simple. He doesn’t suffer fools, answers everything honestly to a fault and loves to do the exact opposite of a anything my mother says. But today at the DMV he did something that perfectly illustrates why I, the most sweet and lovable girl on the planet ended up with punk-face over there.
As we stood there giving our information to the nice government employee (apparently here in the Middle Of Nowhere they actually are nice) so we could get Wisconsin licenses, the employee at the next window was trying to help a hard-of-hearing older couple (I’d estimate around 400?). “Can you believe that?” said our lady, shaking her head sadly. “Someone stole that man’s wallet right after they’d cashed their $900 Social Security check.”
My mind - and Husband’s - flashed to our own grandparents, trying to live on fixed incomes and how scary that is. It wasn’t a few seconds before Husband got those two dimples on his face when he’s trying not to get emotional, walked over to the couple and and handed them his emergency $100 he carries around with him. He had to explain a few times what it was for, since they both couldn’t hear and couldn’t believe someone would be that giving.
He’s never had an emergency himself, but it wasn’t the first time I’ve seen him give his emergency money to someone who needed it more than him. Yes, he’s a punk on the outside. And a few layers in, too. But he’s got a good, gooey center. And that, besides the fact that he wouldn’t take no for an answer, is why I married him.
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