Finishing Sentences

Jenni and I were looking for that perfect television show.  You know it, the one that fills the void between the Netflix movie you just finished and the Ten O’clock News.

On the online TV guide I noted the final thirty minutes of an HGTV show we sometimes watch so I flipped to it.  A husband and wife were remodeling a beach house they had recently purchased.  Immediately I knew we would not like the wife’s style choices so this was good--it would give us ample fodder to discuss her mistakes.  When the husband appeared on screen, he had that type of black hair and white teeth that can only be achieved through artificial means.   After hearing him speak two sentences, both Jenni and I simultaneously proclaimed “I bet he’s a Baptist Preacher.”

I love how we can complete each other’s sentences.

And this week we were on the way to our son and daughter-in-love’s house to reluctantly return Emma, our granddaughter, who they had entrusted to us for the day.  Driving Highway 11, we saw a local man who walks along the shoulder of the road several times each day because he has no transportation.  Sometimes he is barefoot on the hot asphalt; sometimes he’s carrying loot he has pinched from someone’s yard. This time, he was raising a stick in their air and shouting at the clouds.  I said “What the…” and Jenni finished it with “heck” (or something similar.)  Then, as we drove past a particular house whose owners had just completed some questionable landscaping, in complete sync, we each said “They’re gonna regret that.”

After more than thirty-three years of marriage, I guess it is only natural that we think alike and can complete each other’s sentences.  Sometimes we can just sit in silence because we know what the other is thinking.

This weekend was pretty special for us thirty-four years ago.  I was an usher in a friend’s wedding in the Texas hill country.  That night, I caught the bride’s garter when it was thrown.  The following morning, Jenni and I drove to Enchanted Rock State Natural Area near Fredericksburg, TX.  It is a domed outcropping of pink granite rising 425 feet into the Texas sky.  After making it to the top, we found a shady spot under a scraggly live oak tree.  Once I had caught my breath (and most of my nerves), I dropped to one knee and asked Jenni to marry me.

I liked the way she finished that sentence, too.

(This photo was taken in 2016 when we climbed Enchanted Rock, once again, to revisit our spot.)