Stream

Through the window, I can see him. He's on the phone and he's annoyed...rightly. Much like I'd be in the same situation. Service depended upon, neglected. Ill-delivered. Cancelled without warning. So he talks. And he holds. And he is polite, even when the occasion for others would result in tone and talk unbecoming an adult.

On the patio, I cannot hear him, but I can watch...and admire. His reserve. His persistance. His conscience.

Still on the patio for time beyond what a service call should entail, the motion detecting lights halt. The dog, bored with the quiet and the lack of activity, goes inside to observe his master's resolve in nearer proximity---undoubtedly now recumbent upon his master's feet.

The movement of my head seems too insignificant to reactivate motion sensors. A glance upward, and from my now-pitch-black position, pinpricks of glowing red from the twins' east-facing window nightlight look foreshadowing of holidays ahead. A headtilt downward and siteline reveals my love still on the phone. Calm. Transfixed with purpose.

Will future Verizon users experience saved messages unprovokedly erased? Probably.

Will a Richmond wife always remember a cool, atypically mosquito-free September night admiring her husband's tenacity and unwillingness to accept the less-than-acceptable? Most assuredly.