He Worries

He worries about me.  Isn't it sweet?  I'm 43 years old; we have been married for 13 years; I have driven all over the country as part of my first job out of college; since I started teaching, I've driven to innumerable conferences and workshops and training sessions.  I haven't had a wreck since that weird run of three Valentines Days in a row when I was 18, 19, and 20 - that's ancient history - and only one parking ticket in the interim!  Yet, he worries about me.

This weekend I will be attending a committee meeting in Columbia, MO.  It's a mere three hours from home.  All good roads, daytime driving, and I'm renting a car since ours has gotten, well, old and well-used.  Of course, anything can happen, but that's true anytime with everyone.  Today is Monday and he has mentioned my trip, let's see, around. . . five times today.

He worries about me.  Isn't it sweet?