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So – my wife’s favorite part of the Philly Flower Show every year is the black tie gala, but it is not for reasons one might assume. It’s not the fancy clothes and the nice restaraunt. It’s when she gets me back. It signifies that the chokehold that the big build has on me, has released its grip and I can “come home”. We have our yearly traditions and a collection of personal triumphs over the years, but this was all very different. She has grown into a full-time position with a young and growing production house, so the daily schedule with kids and all of the demands that come with having a family were different this year. In the final week on my end, both of our kids got viruses at the same time. She even managed to run them both to separate doctor appointments while I loaded-in the show and was later at the optometrist with shards of metal in my eye. That particular day she was fielding phone calls and emails from parking lots and at home. We have no local family so when it’s not us both it is just one, no matter what. I get to a point every year when I am working every waking hour of the day and I get so in my own head – the vision of the final product can’t leave my conscious. She told me that when she would look out the kitchen window to my home studio it always looked as if the welding light looked like Dr. Frankenstein testing the machine. It’s funny, but I do wonder when I am going to reach the point when I realize how much stress I am putting on her, and if it is all worth it in the end. Well, during that time, that time on Friday when we celebrated my return home, and the end of “anything for art”, I observed something a little different. She was so youthful. She said that she wanted to tell me something but that she didn’t want to cry. Later at our quiet annual dinner I asked her what she wanted to say. She took my hand and told me thru a few tears that the exhibit was her most favorite to date and that it was all worth it. We masked our faces from nearby tables and for just a few moments we had a shared cry and we were the only ones there. Patience, acceptance, perseverance. If that isn’t love then what the hell is?

Home / truelovewaits / So – my wife’s favorite part of the Philly Flower Show every year is the black tie gala, but it is not for reasons one might assume. It’s not the fancy clothes and the nice restaraunt. It’s when she gets me back. It signifies that the chokehold that the big build has on me, has released its grip and I can “come home”. We have our yearly traditions and a collection of personal triumphs over the years, but this was all very different. She has grown into a full-time position with a young and growing production house, so the daily schedule with kids and all of the demands that come with having a family were different this year. In the final week on my end, both of our kids got viruses at the same time. She even managed to run them both to separate doctor appointments while I loaded-in the show and was later at the optometrist with shards of metal in my eye. That particular day she was fielding phone calls and emails from parking lots and at home. We have no local family so when it’s not us both it is just one, no matter what. I get to a point every year when I am working every waking hour of the day and I get so in my own head – the vision of the final product can’t leave my conscious. She told me that when she would look out the kitchen window to my home studio it always looked as if the welding light looked like Dr. Frankenstein testing the machine. It’s funny, but I do wonder when I am going to reach the point when I realize how much stress I am putting on her, and if it is all worth it in the end. Well, during that time, that time on Friday when we celebrated my return home, and the end of “anything for art”, I observed something a little different. She was so youthful. She said that she wanted to tell me something but that she didn’t want to cry. Later at our quiet annual dinner I asked her what she wanted to say. She took my hand and told me thru a few tears that the exhibit was her most favorite to date and that it was all worth it. We masked our faces from nearby tables and for just a few moments we had a shared cry and we were the only ones there. Patience, acceptance, perseverance. If that isn’t love then what the hell is?

So – my wife’s favorite part of the Philly Flower Show every year is the black tie gala, but it is not for reasons one might assume.  It’s not the fancy clothes and the nice restaraunt. It’s when she gets me back.  It signifies that the chokehold that the big build has on me, has released its grip and I can “come home”. We have our yearly traditions and a collection of personal triumphs over the years, but this was all very different. 
She has grown into a full-time position with a young and growing production house, so the daily schedule with kids and all of the demands that come with having a family were different this year. In the final week on my end, both of our kids got viruses at the same time.  She even managed to run them both to separate doctor appointments while I loaded-in the show and was later at the optometrist with shards of metal in my eye. That particular day she was fielding phone calls and emails from parking lots and at home.  We have no local family so when it’s not us both it is just one, no matter what. 
I get to a point every year when I am working every waking hour of the day and I get so in my own head – the vision of the final product can’t leave my conscious.  She told me that when she would look out the kitchen window to my home studio it always looked as if the welding light looked like Dr. Frankenstein testing the machine.  It’s funny, but I do wonder when I am going to reach the point when I realize how much stress I am putting on her, and if it is all worth it in the end.  Well, during that time, that time on Friday when we celebrated my return home, and the end of “anything for art”, I observed something a little different.  She was so youthful.  She said that she wanted to tell me something but that she didn’t want to cry.
Later at our quiet annual dinner I asked her what she wanted to say.  She took my hand and told me thru a few tears that the exhibit was her most favorite to date and that it was all worth it. We masked our faces from nearby tables and for just a few moments we had a shared cry and we were the only ones there.  Patience, acceptance, perseverance.  If that isn’t love then what the hell is?

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Photo taken at: The Philadelphia Flower Show

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