Our togetherness is the same.
Our togetherness is different.
We’ve done things that were unbelievably fun. We’ve done things that were unbelievably sad . . . and we’ve held hands through it all.
We’ve done things together, we’ve done things solo, and we make it a point to never run off and outgrown one another.
See how he swooped me off my feet and carried me out of the church? That’s because I’d been hit by a car while crossing the street about six weeks before the wedding. The cast came off less than a week before we said “I will. I surely will,” and I was still on crutches. I didn’t know he was going to do that, but I’m sure glad he did cause if he hadn’t, we’d still be making our way out.
He still crunches ice (something that drives me up the wall), but I just put a finger in the ear closest to him and wonder to myself how one little ole bitty piece of ice can possibly pack that much crunch time. And what do I do that drives him crazy? Not a damn thing. I can’t believe you asked.
I help him clean up when he drops or spills something (even though I sometimes roll my eyes on the inside). He cheers when I get another diploma (even though he thinks the money could’ve been better invested) cause we have this unspoken agreement that each one of us is about as perfect as we can stand and not a drop more, so we cut each other some slack and call it endearing quirkiness.
I ride with him to Lowe’s, he drives me to the fabric store just so we can be together.
Now that I’m seriously writing my book and he’s home 24/7, he’s taken over most of the cooking and grocery shopping, something I’ve always despised doing and he has never really minded.
We recently bought a boat that takes us around the lake twice in less than half the time we used to spend making one lap around in the pontoon boat. We wanted sport and speed this time because we’re much younger now.
I may be a bit more vocal and he may take a few more meds, but we still laugh and hug and hold hands and kiss. We still ask each other questions and listen to the answers. We tell each other what intrigues us, what tickles us, what puzzles us. We overlook the bad and point out the good. We ask each other for help, though sometimes we don’t wait for the asking to step in and assist.
Mostly, though, we laugh. We laugh a lot. We laugh at each other (eventually), and we laugh at ourselves. We laugh when things take a funny bounce, we laugh when things are easy peasy. Life is funny, and we feast on that.
By now, we’ve known each other 39 years instead of the scant 62 days we knew each other before we became engaged, and the feelings that first connected us remain intact – wizened and weathered, perhaps, but enduring despite it all.
He continues to say that I was the best he could do with the car he was driving at the time. And I still say he was the best I could do with the boobs I had at the time.
to be continued . . .