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Carry Me In Your Arms Part 4

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I felt it was easier to carry her with each passing day. Perhaps, the workout everyday made me stronger.
I said to her, "It seems not difficult to carry you now."
She was picking her dresses. I was waiting to carry her out. She tried quite a few but could not find a suitable one.
Then she sighed, "All my dresses have grown fatter."
I smiled. But I suddenly realized that it was because she was thinner that I could carry her more easily, not because I was stronger.

I knew she had buried all the bitterness in her heart. Again, I felt a sense of pain. Subconsciously I reached out a hand to touch her head. Our son came in at the moment.
"Dad, it's time to carry mum out." He said.
To him, seeing his father carry his mother out had become an essential part of his life. She gestured our son to come closer and hugged him tightly. I turned my face away because I was afraid I would change my mind at the last minute. I held her in my arms, walking from the bedroom, through the sitting room to the hallway. Her hands were wrapped around my neck softly and naturally. I held her body tightly as if it was our wedding day again. However, her much lighter weight made me sad.

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On the last day, when I held her in my arms, I could hardly move a step. Our son had gone to school.
She said, "Actually I hope you will hold me in your arms until we are old."
I held her tightly and said, "Both you and I didn't notice that our life lack such intimacy."

I jumped out of the car swiftly without locking the door. I was afraid any delay would make me change my mind. I walked upstairs. Dew opened the door.
I said to her, "Sorry Dew, I won't get a divorce. I'm serious."
She looked at me, astonished.
Then she touched my forehead, "You have no fever."
I moved her hand off my head.
"Sorry, Dew. I can only say sorry to you. I won't divorce my wife. My marriage life was boring probably because she and I didn't value the finer details of life, not because we didn't love each other any more. Now, I understand that since I carried her into our home and she gave birth to our child, I am supposed to hold her until I am old. So I have to say sorry to you."
That seemed to wake Dew up. She gave me a loud slap and then slammed the door and burst into tears. I walked downstairs and drove to the office.

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When I passed by the florist on the way, I ordered a bouquet of my wife's favourite flowers for her. The salesgirl asked me to write the greeting words on the card.
I smiled and wrote. "I'll carry you out every morning until we are old."


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