I spoke to my husband for the first time twenty-one years ago today (or yesterday, I’m not the best with dates). Long story short – I had just stepped on a bee, the boys were running around like Max in his wolf suit times two, dinner was burning and the phone rang. After explaining that it wasn’t really a great time to talk, he asked what I was doing later in the week. My response? “Nothing much” His response? “I’ll be out-of-town for the rest of the week”. In my head I was yelling “then why the hell did you just ask me what I was doing all week?”, but I let it slide – my foot was swelling, we clearly weren’t going to get past this conversation and someone, anyone needed to go into time out.
Needless to say we spoke a lot while he was away and upon his return. We’re coming up on twenty years of marriage – a stunning number to me. He will tell you that I still have a pair of sneakers in the garage in case I need to run away; I will tell you that he can still tune me out better than anyone I’ve ever known. We’re both right and we’re both wrong. He lets me keep the sneakers outside so I feel I have the choice; I don’t press to be listened to unless I really need his attention. We make each other crazy and we keep each other sane. At the risk of cliché – we may not light up the sky, but we try to remember that we are here to light each other’s way. And that’s pretty damn wonderful. I hope your day is very well-lit and warmed with love – as corny as that may be. Happy Tuesday all..