For almost two months now, Valentine greetings have almost jumped off their racks to lure you into spending several bucks apiece for them. Makes no difference if the card is humorous or old-fashioned-and-lacy or just plain red-and-white, the main message on each is supposedly compressed into "three little words."

And, unless you're under 5 or over 90, no one has to tell you what those three words are. Now, if you're already the recipient of that endearing phrase, good for you!

However, several other triple-word expressions - which I'd long to hear my husband lean over and whisper - are far more treasured than "I love you."

Want examples? Read on… The first started way back when my two young sons had to catch an early school bus and their father dashed off to work even earlier. I'd roll out of my deliciously warm spot beneath the blankets to cook breakfast for the four of us, then see them out the door.

Things like this get to be a habit, you understand, and thus I'm expected to continue this pattern the rest of my life. So, now when the alarm still clangs at 6:15 each morning, I'd just love to have Lawrence lean over and whisper those three little words I long to hear: "Stay in bed."

Here's another example: Maybe it's different at your house, but in ours, I do most of the cooking. Of course, breakfast isn't much of a chore - mostly cereal, milk, fruit, coffee - not much labor then. But during the day, I cook casseroles, toss salads, bake desserts. (Thank goodness the microwave was invented or I'd spend even more kitchen time.)

So following Sunday church, I'd love to have Lawrence lean over and whisper those three little words I long to hear: "Let's eat out."

Now when I'm not in the kitchen, I spend hours all day long, sewing on buttons and closing seams. I patch pants. I run to the garage and put laundry in the washer, run back three times more taking it out and getting it into the dryer, then back out again, fold items and pack into drawers.

In between loads, I gather up pesky branches the winter winds have littered havoc on the lawn with; I dust mop and knock down cobwebs.

When I collapse after serving the evening meal and then the phone rings, I'd love to have my husband lean over and whisper those three little words I long to hear: "I'll get it."

© Copyright 2013 by Isabel Torrey, a King City resident now in her 41st year as a columnist

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