He Wasn't The Most | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: He Wasn't The Most | Previous Challenge Entry
By Linda Boulanger
07/28/09
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He wasn’t the most handsome of men, but it mattered little to me. His skin was tanned and weathered. His hands were wrinkled and somewhat leathery from years of outside work. I’d say his nose was too big, his mouth too small, and maybe his eyes were just a bit close set. No, he would never win a Mister America contests, but I didn’t care.

Perhaps it was because we’d met in the Spring and that was my season for love. Most likely it was because he was beautiful on the inside and I saw him with the eyes of my heart. Whatever the reason, it really didn’t matter. I simply loved him. And now, as Spring rolled around again, we were to be married. Can you believe it? Me! Married!

I’d said it would never happen and I’d almost succeeded. I was no Spring chicken, after all. At 68, I could still turn the head of an older gent or two. But I was certainly no longer in the springtime of my life, though I felt as young as a carefree teenager. I’d floated through the last year with Thomas; my feet barely touching the ground.

“Norma,” he’d say to me, “You’re as fresh and as beautiful as a newly blossomed rose.” He wasn’t the most poetic, this big lug of a country boy grown old. But I loved it when he’d say such silly things. It filled my heart and life with a lightness. Laughter abounded.

He wasn’t the most wealthy man I’d ever met either. He lived in a small house on the outskirts of town. Like Thomas, it wasn’t much to look at from the outside. But inside, it was cheerful and homey; inviting, warm. He’d taught me that being rich and prosperous had nothing to do with money. I’d found I enjoyed life just as much if not more so, bouncing around on the seat of his old pick-up truck with the rickety springs, as I did behind the wheel of my elegant sedan.

Thomas wasn’t the most stylish of dressers either. He didn’t wear fancy clothes. He liked himself in an old pair of jeans and a faded denim, snap-front, long-sleeved, collared shirt. Regardless of what he wore, he was always neat and clean. And he smelled good too! Maybe it was just his shaving cream or an inexpensive cologne, but it suited him perfectly. In that I found great pleasure.

No, my Thomas wasn’t the most in many ways. There was much he lacked in material things. Yet, in all that mattered, he was so much more than I could have hoped for. He’d captured my heart. In his own way he was the most. Actually, he wasn’t the most. He was way more than that for me.

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