Why I love my wife Abs

We were done. We were finished.

I’d never have to see this woman again. It was 1998 and my then girlfriend Abs and I had a big fight in our San Diego hotel room prior to the Super Bowl that year.

I was there to cover the game. Abs dropped in to enjoy the festivities. But something bad happened at the end. And that appeared to be the end of the line for us.

Abs flew home first. I returned to Detroit a few days later and dropped in on my Aunt Margo. She immediately sensed something was wrong although I assured her everything was going well in my life.

But she kept bugging me.

“What’s wrong?” she asked again.

I finally fessed up and told her about breaking up with Abs.

“Boy, you’d better go over there and make up with that girl,” she said.

I waited a few days before mustering up the courage to ring her front door bell in Oak Park. I didn’t know what the reaction would be. I basically told her to get lost. She said the same to me.

I rang the door bell. She answered the door.

“What took you so long?” she asked.

I got all sappy and stupid and said life was not the same without her. Please take me back. I’m just bad sometimes.

She forgave me and took me back. That’s when I knew I loved Abs.

We were married within the year.

Three months after we said “I do” we were in Tuscan. Now I was covering the Fiesta Bowl. The committee planned a day of bar hoping for the media. We probably had a couple margaritas too many when I stepped off a bus to hit another Mexican restaurant.

Abs trailed. I turned just in time to see her grab her head and fall. Luckily, Freep writer Nick Cotsonika trailed and grabbed her before she hit her head on the steps.

We’d find out later she was carrying our first child Celine.

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Published by terryfoster8

I am a 58 year old retired sports journalist, husband and father of two living outside of Detroit in search of his next big adventure in life.

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