to my husband
April 22, 2016 § 1 Comment
While you were gone I picked up your birthday present. I know it’s late and that we don’t dwell on gifts, but this time the object is less material and more an investment in time spent together.
I was passively procrastinating purchasing your gift when my good intentions and last minute plans were rerouted for an unscheduled trip to urgent care the morning of your birthday. I rallied that day just long enough to honor our family birthday traditions, all the while simultaneously relieved and remorseful that I had failed to follow through on an old promise.
I almost let myself off the hook, noting the obvious intervention of Fate, when the store closest to home sold out of their inventory. Three days later we celebrated our son’s milestone birthday and it felt as if the moment to revisit your birthday had passed.
Except, this past Christmas, when I told you exactly what I wanted in a rare and specific request – you made that happen. Even when our daughter spoiled the surprise, discovering my gift hidden in an unusual place, I was no less grateful that you listened.
This week, when a small window of time presented itself, I rerouted my attention and traced down your gift. Two stores and almost ten days later, I bought a bike. For me. For you.
We’ve been married long enough that we can laugh at my (lack of) balance on wheels with the same honesty I curse your fantasy of family bike rides. But what is marriage if not a compromise of dreams and imperfect performances of balance?
I’ve been listening.
Love, Me
to my husband
July 17, 2015 § Leave a comment
We’re somewhere in the middle of two different places. On one hand, we’ve almost finished our house projects and packed up the past. At the same time, we’ve made new commitments that have only just begun. There isn’t even time to fully absorb the reality of the work that remains despite all the effort we’ve already exerted.
Last night you unpacked a closet and I marveled at the river of items that interrupted my sense of completion. I wanted you to push everything out of sight, to pretend for a moment that we were further along in our progress. Then, today, came a new mess; a singular project that multiplied into many as dust clouded over boxes still unsealed, countertops cluttered with tools, and previously clean corners behind partially open doorways.
This is life. The vastness of what we cannot control and the clarity of acceptance when we realize we can only choose our response. We will clean and reclean the evidence of this moment, forgetting the inconvenience and discomfort. For today I want to remember the quiet beneath the chaos, when we chose not to allow the threat of destruction to override our kindness to one another.
The messy in-between is more than the physical fall out of hurried projects and limited time, it is the emotional space of so many life experiences. We’ve been here before for the premature birth of our son, the preterm labor of our daughter, special needs diagnoses and an emotionally abusive relative, but it exists in even the most mundane experiences of marriage and home making. With each unforseen challenge we’ve had to link hands and choose our path around new obstacles with old commitments.
We can pack our lives into marked boxes and clean away the dust, but the messiness of life cannot be so neatly contained. It’s been a long year, one we’ve weathered privately to guard our children against harm. In silence we lost the comfort of friends, but we mapped out a space of integrity.
We’re still in-between heartache and hope, there’s much left to do and more we cannot control. Maybe one day we’ll tell the story of this past year, but for now it is enough to start again together.
Love you.
once upon a time
October 29, 2011 § 2 Comments
I imagined my Prince Charming would sweep me into a Fairy Tale. I married a man who lives with me in a place of reality, it is a life beyond the pages of my childhood stories. Long before Happily Ever After, there are everyday moments of chivalry.
This week my husband sat quietly at the dinner table, pouring over pages of math in an effort to guide our son. Hours passed and his patience lingered as our son slowly grasped a new concept. I sat separately with our daughter, grateful for a partner that shares in long nights heavy with frustration. There was no white horse or castle peeking over a distant hill, just the sight of my husband and son bent over messy numbers with sleepy eyes.
Good night stories are never-ending, my husband sits alongside his princess happy to accommodate her pleas for just one more chapter from a new book. He will forever be her knight in shining armor, warding off the shadows and drawing her into dreams as she slips into sleep. A small wish granted at the end of a long day.
Today, while children everywhere prepare to pretend and embrace fantasy for Halloween, my mind and heart are filled with gratitude for my prince and our real life love story.
daddy’s girl
October 22, 2011 § Leave a comment
Her laughter bubbles from a place of genuine joy and spills recklessly, absorbing observers and drawing them into a smile. She is her father’s daughter. His laugh is as infectious as it is spontaneous, ricocheting off the walls with rapid fire guffaws.
She sails across the boundaries of restraint eager and animated. Whimsy and mischief follow her in search of adventure. He leaps into action, driven by curiosity unhindered by caution.
Her features are expressive, her thoughts and emotions an open book. His face is a story of humor and worry as he navigates business and play. I read volumes as I watch them both.
Her heart is as large as her smile, her emotions fragile. I guide her firmly, but with frequent hugs and reassurance. He is deceptively strong, secretly sensitive. I hold both their hands and listen closely for hurt; mindful that despite their strength and humor they require extra care.
Rx: rest
September 10, 2011 § Leave a comment
For the past couple of days my husband has balanced work and a house project, keeping late hours toiling away at a task he doesn’t enjoy. He did this while I slept peacefully unaware courtesy of sleep-inducing, over-the-counter allergy medicine. I am writing this because sometimes we say thank you, but cannot hear the value behind the words.
When I don’t feel well, I need to stop and rest. I am someone who seemingly catches everyone else’s bug if I am not well rested. Once sick, I don’t stand a chance of getting well without tuning out and turning in. At the moment I am well, but seasonal allergies have me stuffy and red, pouty and tired; sleeping a wonderful reprieve from irritating symptoms.
My gratitude comes from being allowed to be selfish. The time that is normally our time at the end of the day has been my time. We don’t go out as often as we would like, evenings after the children are tucked into bed are our time to reconnect. My husband set aside our time and gave me his time to rest. Genuine appreciation lies behind two little words: thank you.
scribblechic 