All the recent news about wife beaters in the NFL reminded me of something that I would rather forget. Years ago, in the first weeks of our marriage, something happened that I have regretted ever since.
It was mid-afternoon, Honey was in class at the University of Houston and I was sitting at the kitchen table reading a book before getting ready to go to work. When she got home, she quietly came up behind me and gave me a hug.
Startled – I hadn’t heard her come in and thought I was alone – I jumped up and spun around. My elbow caught her square in the eye and she ended up with a huge shiner.
Of course she cried. It must have hurt like Hell, but I probably felt worse about it than she did and I’m sure I still do.
I doubt if anybody believed our story about how it happened, and wherever she went, my poor bride carried around the “evidence of domestic abuse” for almost two weeks.
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