\u201cIt still works fine, Karen,\u201d my husband said, standing beside the shiny new bass boat in our driveway. I had just returned from the grocery store, carrying milk in one hand and a sack of potatoes in the other. When I learned that Rick had spent the $11,000 we had saved for our kitchen renovation, I felt something inside me go quiet. For six years, I had tucked away $40 every Friday, dreaming of new cabinets, a working stove, and a kitchen where I could finally cook without fighting a broken burner. Rick had used every dollar to buy himself the fishing boat he had always wanted. When I asked why, he simply reminded me that our old kitchen still worked. I didn\u2019t scream or cry. I carried the groceries inside and made our usual Saturday pot roast, stirring the gravy over the only burner that still worked properly. Then I took out the red-and-white tablecloth my mother had given me as a wedding present, carried our heavy maple table into the driveway, and spread the cloth across the padded seat of Rick\u2019s new boat. I placed two plates, two glasses of iced tea, and our supper between the seats. When Rick asked what I was doing, I looked at him and said, \u201cSetting the table. Come eat before it gets cold.\u201d<\/p>\n
That first dinner was painfully quiet. Rick sat behind the steering wheel while I sat across from him, and neither of us mentioned the money. The next evening, I did it again, this time adding a little vanilla candle to the cup holder. Our neighbor, Marlys, watched from her front step with a cup of coffee, clearly determined not to miss a moment of the strange new tradition. By the third night, she had begun eating her own supper outside while we ate in the boat. Then Rick\u2019s old fishing buddies arrived, accepted plates of chicken and noodles, and climbed aboard as though this were the most ordinary thing in Iowa. For the first time since buying the boat, Rick laughed freely. But later that evening, when everyone had gone home, he asked me to sit beside him. He told me about his father, a hard man who had sold Rick\u2019s beloved childhood minibike without permission, teaching him that wanting something for himself was selfish. Rick had spent his entire working life putting everyone else first, climbing electric poles through ice storms and working exhausting hours without ever asking for much. Then his retirement letter arrived, reminding him how little time remained to enjoy the life he had worked so hard to build. He had bought the boat because, for once, he wanted something of his own. But when he admitted he knew exactly whose dream he had sacrificed to pay for it, I realized our little driveway dinners were about to become something neither of us had expected…CONTINUE READING<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" \u201cIt still works fine, Karen,\u201d my husband said, standing beside the shiny new bass boat in our driveway. I had just returned from the grocery store, carrying… <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2045,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2043","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"aioseo_notices":[],"aioseo_head":"\n\t\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t