My Wife

In most respects I think of myself as capable. However, when it comes to shopping and packing, slap a diaper on me. Here in Uganda, with the other teachers, I am the man to see. Need aspirin, Alleve? See Tim. Antihistmines, antidiarheals anti constipation? Tim's got you covered coming and going. Bandaids, skin cream, sunblock, baby wipes, sizzors, Qtips? I am your one stop place for shopping. Of course, I'd probably have arrived with one pair of skivvies and a pair of mismatched socks if it wasn't for my wife, Cathy Gallagher.

What she has provided for me goes far beyond mere creature comforts. She placed herself in the uncomfortable postion of caring for the house, our house, by herself during the Summer--a time when teachers have off and, traditionally, catch up on their honey-do lists. Not this Summer. Not for me anyway. I am here in Uganda having an adventure, expanding my horizons and, to some, playing the role of hero. Back home Cathy hears what a great thing I am doing. But without her, I am not here.

Today is my birthday. I am 57. This morning I woke at 5:00, got my coffee, and sat out in the backyard of our compound waiting for the sun to rise. In my hand was the birthday card Cathy packed for me, hidden in my luggage, wrapped in plastic to keep it dry. It is one of 7 she packed. One for the first day of each new week, one for my birthday, and one for July 30th--our fifth wedding anniversarry. Each one is the highlight of my week. For a moment every week I am alone with something that started with her, alone, inside her head. Make no mistake, every time I see something that takes my breath, my hand instinctively goes out for hers. She is the first thing I think of every morning, my last vision every night.

I have learned a lot here. But nothing is more clear to me than the fact that as great as this is, I'll never do anything like it again...unless she is with me.