Mixed emotions arise when I look at postcards. This one, sent to me by my husband from Hong Kong is a perfect example of this. First, the backstory:
During this time six years ago, my husband was required to travel for weeks at a time to places all across Asia. We’d speak on the phone about our days and nights, which except for facts like we both brushed our teeth, were literal and figurative opposites of one another.
The girls and I’d be eating oatmeal, when he just got home from eating raw jellyfish. He would talk about cows freely plucking bunches of bananas as they swaggered down the road in India and people eating fried bugs in Thailand. I’d tell him about the girl’s school days, and recount mundane experiences from favorite fodder gathering places such as the carpool line and grocery store.
Phone connections in recent years had gotten so dependable and clear, that he would sound as if he were next door. For some reason this only made him feel further away. This trip so far had been going well, and he was currently in Hong Kong. Flight connections had been made and layovers endured, with what seemed to me to be superman like powers.
Back at the homestead, I was responsible for our two young daughters and bringing in the mail. Day two, I was carrying out the mail directive. This involved walking 20 yards or so, directly from my front door to mailbox. Because I’m a suburban superhero and all, I shunned the sidewalk. I could handle a perfectly even expanse of lawn, right?
Lesson here: Never wear clogs on grass. Even superheros such as myself can fall off of them. Which I did. I fell off my clogs, which are essentially 2 and 1/2 inch stilts, and ended up sprawled in the Bermuda grass. I turned my left ankle in a way that I, as an experienced sprainer, recognized immediately as being very bad.
Even though I would have been embarrassed for a neighbor to have witnessed such mission failure, I would have really liked it if someone had come to my aid. I wanted to be carried off like early Scarlett O’Hara. Instead, like a scene in a war movie where a brave soldier must slowly drag himself to safety, I made my slow retreat out of my personal ground zero all by myself. In my mind this took approximately three hours. The clogs were left behind. In retrospect, it was one of my proudest moments.
Fortunately, because of modern communication, my husband and I, for the rest of his trip, talked on the phone every day. With the help of a brother who drove five hours to help me, friends and an orthopedist, I stayed medicated and got crutches; and daughters stayed fed, watered and got to and from school. By the time I got this postcard, a week or so after he returned home, I was reminded of something that didn’t yet need remembering. I glanced at the picture, skimmed the note and then put it away.
When I read it now, it makes me very happy for reasons I’m not sure I understand. He mentions my ankle briefly in the first sentence. “Hope the ankle’s much better.” He goes on to describe finding a tailor to make him some new shirts for $38 each. His friend, Jerry was going to show him around the next day, and he explains how much of Hong Kong is underground (?), which I still need to ask him about. He tells me what his golf score was in Taipai. Next he’s headed to Japan with six hotels in seven days.
This trip may not be the greatest of memories, but we lived to tell about it. I can look back on it and know and feel that it really happened. Even his handwriting makes me happy.
My husband leaves this Sunday on a trip to Russia. I’m in a better place now, really. Simple rules: No clogs. No grass. I’m sure he’ll send me a postcard. I probably won’t receive it until after he’s been home for a while, but I’ll be sure to keep it.
Happy Postcard Friendship Friday! Please visit my friend, Marie at Cpaphil Vintage Postcards for more.
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{ 28 comments }
It's so hard when the hubby's travel and leave us to hold down the home front. I too have described my daily activities as mundane, but also know that are times there is no other place he would rather be! So great that he actually sends you a postcard when he is away! I'm sure you'll never forget your adventure in the bermuda grass:)
Wow, what a story! I hate it when my husband has to travel. Great postcard though…a scene you wouldn't really get to see here in the U.S. very often.
Even if the memories aren't uniformly positive, they are great to have, especially in years to come. When my husband had to travel a lot, mainly to the US from Europe, he never did send me cards – he sent them to my father!!
Thanks for the story Margo. My mom hurt her foot recently in a very similar way.
Hubby never travels for long, and never any place exotic. Although he did eat in Michael Simon's restaurant last time (Damn him!).
So I don't get exotic post cards. Just gloating culinary exploits.
Hi
Happy PFF
What a great postcard.
It brought all of us in blogland a great lol, a bit of drama and a happy ending.
Thank you for sharing.
Blessings of joy to you.
Happy Trails
My father travelled all the time. He would send me telegrams for important events.
*sigh* My age again reveals itself.
OUCH .. and glad you saved the card, that was a wonderful story. Happy PFF!
Those sounds like some ass-kickin' clogs!
But sorry you ended up on yours ;(
I love the chain of thoughts that came from a postcard.
Those sounds like some ass-kickin' clogs!
But sorry you ended up on yours ;(
I love the chain of thoughts that came from a postcard.
What a great story and beautifully written too. Thanks for sharing. All that travel must be hard on you both but I love the post cards and the sweet gesture of "connection" behind them.
Thanks for stopping by my blog! I really appreciate it. I'll be back to visit you again soon. Nice to meet you.
Clogs on grass…too funny. What a great story. Thansk so much for sharing this…it's so funny how a postcard can mean so much Aloha
Was it all black and white when you pulled yourself away from the landmine that caused you to injure your ankle? Cause, that'd be awesome.
It seems to me that grass has it in for you! I know that you're horribly allergic to it. Were those cute clogs really at fault? I think not! It was the hateful hateful grass tripping you up!
I will DEFINITELY not be buying something tomorrow!
OUCH !! for the ankle! Too bad you didn't have Lily then and you could have had her drag you into the house like a wounded squirrel. [giggle] "Lassie, fetch!"
You'll have to tell us why your Sweetie travels so much someday. Or is his name Bond, James Bond, and we shouldn't ask?
Very good post. The back story with the postcard was delightful. Happy PFF! Have a great weekend.
)
hehe… I already posted for wiwbbtw at happy postcards! It's weird though because links don't seem to be underlined with this new template. I have to figure out why it's being naughty! Your event is linked and click able but not underlined. I made it bold though:) Until tomorrow!
What a wonderful heartfelt story. I love that you can look at the card and be happy about that time when you and your husband were separated for such long periods of time, it sounds like. Happy PFF!
I would literally rather be stung by a jellyfish than eat one. I don't think I'd do well in a foreign country. Maybe not even southern California.
Russia, eh? Tell him to ditch the clogs if he's going to down the vodka!
I still say a sprained ankle tops fried-bug eating Thailanders, any day. But then, I wear clogs.
Russia, eh? Tell him to ditch the clogs if he's going to down the vodka!
I still say a sprained ankle tops fried-bug eating Thailanders, any day. But then, I wear clogs.
I wear lace up shoes all the time, I have to, I'd be a mangled mess if I didn't. I totally relate to your story.
ACK!!! Silly clogs…Glad you can look back now and smile! Thanks for sharing your story and such a great card. Can hardly wait to see what you get from Russia.
Happy PFF.
Debby
I got lucky that my husband does not travel with his current job. He may not be that helpful…
but what little he does around the house is missed when he is gone. He might have to go to switzerland for a few years?? We will find out in another year. They take turns manning the overseas "bank" for the company.
That's nice of him to send postcards, especially when he can talk to you on the phone.
You must have a very strong and special bond to endure lengths of time separated like this. Gives the "rest of us" hope that that perfect someone does exist … somewhere
I have never been a very good traveler myself. A day or two is fine, but then "home sick" feelings take over! Funny, when I was young, I NEVER wanted to be home. Now I crave it
So ……. What WAS his golf score anyway???
Big hello from Minnesota,
SpeedyCat
I get nervous when Hubby is too far off… bad things happen! When he was gone out of state for a fishing trip, the pharmacist gave me the wrong medicine and almost killed me! When he was just shopping with his brother for the afternoon, I came home very ill and ended up in surgery! (appendix) No, he'd better not go to HongKong!!!
mm, I know what you mean. He's always saying things aren't always so thrilling when by himself. People like to share travel experiences.
aimee, got to love the birdcages. Humm, an interesting metaphor?
sheila, that's so funny! he probably understood that postcards meant a LOT to earlier generations.
viridian, thanks! I hope your mom heals fast. It can take longer than we think it should sometimes
mother, we have a tacit understanding that he doesn't share too many details about the fine dining.. more than anything it makes me jealous. I guess you could say I'm a bit food oriented too:)
terry, you are welcome! btw: your avatar always makes me smile
pricilla, now telegrams were a really big deal. My grandmother used to send me those too sometimes for really big stuff.
daryl, I was actually kind of surprised I managed to save this one. But I am glad now.
ann, they were wicked, those clogs. I hated to give them up, but the mojo was never the same.
joanna, thank you so much for stopping by. I am very excited to have found your blog too
Thom, clogs on grass seemed perfectly normal to me at the time. Now I'm grassaphobic unless I'm barefoot. so far this has successfully gotten me out of lots of yardwork.
timjenks, you nailed it. EXACTLY.
Marie, grass definitely has it in for me. I really don't understand why it is the cornerstone of suburban landscape. Concrete would work so much better for me in many ways.
sparky, undoubtedly this whole thing would have been avoided if lily were around back then
marie, noah and john, I added you to today's What I'm Not Buying!
judith, thanks, I'm glad you enjoyed! So glad you stopped by
shawn, amen to that. I think the first time he ate it, he thought it was spaghetti!
lawyer mom, I still adore clogs, but always test for teetering. And I stay close to the ground as possible when he's out of town. "Na Zdorovie!" Husband tells me this means "to health" in Russian. I think I will start using that when I slam back xanax with wodka.
kirby, from one oft mangled mess to another – sneakers! thanks for stopping by.
debby, I've given him the heads up that I now, as a PFF participant, require at least one postcard. Thanks for visiting!
hit40, switzerland. wow, that could be exciting. and btw, I totally let the house go when he's gone for a long time.
postcardy, it is. he knows how much I like them. Even though I rarely get them until he's been home for a while, it's fun to see where he's been.
speedcat, we didn't know it going in, but we're both pretty adaptable and totally loyal and trustworthy. Some years I'm more screwed up about it emotionally than others, but overall, we've made it work
misslizzy, oh no! Don't let him ever take a job further than a stoplight or two away! thanks for visiting
Very special postcard, and I liked the accompanying story too. Thanks, greetings from Amsterdam.
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