Small things

HeartI don’t know what determines if a marriage will last or not. I know I tend not to dwell on such things; I’m just grateful that I feel as happy now as I did 16 years ago, when we first started hanging out together. More so now, because our histories are intertwined more tightly. We’ve been through a lot together. Health issues; family issues; personal issues. It’s not always been easy, but we’ve been honest with one another, brutally honest at times, and we’ve made our way through difficult times. And I’m grateful that the difficult times are few and far between compared to good times or simply content times. More often than not I find myself laughing hysterically with my better half or sitting next to him and reflecting on something he’d said earlier and giggling to myself, and I think, I’m just so thankful to know such happiness.

Two recent small things that made me feel thankful. On Sunday, after I’d spent part of the day working at home, I went to a lecture on campus to hear our state senator. I was so hungry when I returned home and I walked in to find DS had dinner ready–my salad was waiting for me on the table and he was just starting to dish out my pasta and sauce when I walked in.
This morning (and what spurred me to write this post), I was working from home for the first part of the morning and I saw DS getting his pans ready to make eggs. I said, I’m going to make eggs, too. He asked if I wanted toast and I said yes, so he cut some slices from the loaf he’d recently made. I had every expectation of making my own eggs once he was finished, but the next thing I knew, he set a plate down next to me with eggs and toast. “You made my eggs?” I said. “Of course,” he said. It was not a big deal to him but it meant a lot to me. And he does stuff like that all the time. As well as accepting my nose piercing and my septum piercing and my guinea pig adopting and my head shaving and my dog adopting (when he’d always had cats) and my girls-only vacationing. (Not to mention dealing with all the snow, refusing to let me help with the shoveling, even when I’m requesting a potty area for the dogs so they can go out more easily…he even handled that. Without complaint. First thing in the morning.)

Prior to committing suicide, Virginia Woolf wrote a heartbreaking letter to her husband. In it, she says, “What I want to say is I owe all the happiness of my life to you.” This line brings a knot to my chest each and every time I read it because I know she’s writing it as a goodbye to her husband, and I kfeel completely the same toward my husband. It is the one thing I would want him to know, should I suddenly disappear from this world. And it is written more beautifully than I could have ever written it.

And so each day, I try remember THESE are the good ol’ days. I hope we have many ahead of us, but I know we at least have this one we’re living today.


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