Tuesday, Him and a couple of his friends went on a two day float trip. An overnighter. Two days. I had two days I could eat whatever and whenever I wanted. One morning I could sleep until noon if I wanted, and one night I could stay up until 4:00 AM if I wanted to. Two glorious days to myself.
If you have been married a short time, this may seem a little melodramatic. I, on the other hand, have been married for 32 years. So a good portion of you have been married a short time by my standards. A couple of days to myself sounds like such a good idea. I have always thought so in the past.
I suppose there is something about being married 32 years that changes your perspective. Or maybe, maybe, it's because I have gotten older that my feelings on marriage, life and being alone have changed... softened. A few hours after Him left, I found myself bored. That awful feeling when I can't focus on anything. I was so bored I couldn't stay with anything. Not my iPad, computer, a book or my knitting. Watching mindless TV made it worse. Mind you, Him usually sits downstairs in his man cave on his computer and I am upstairs in my office. We manage to cross paths a few times a day and have supper a few times a week. There was something about Mason, the big dog, moping around and not eating because his man wasn't home, knowing Him wasn't downstairs in his chair that made the aloneness more oppressive.
Looking for something to do, I decided I would try to get a new low carb bread recipe to rise into a larger loaf. It failed, so I did it again with slightly better results. Then I took a loaf over to the neighbor's house because 4 loaves of bread are too much for us to eat. I watched more mindless TV, did a few crosswords, played Candy Crush and did some knitting. Then, at 10:30 PM, I decided to shampoo my carpets. What? I didn't even have to do the dishes while Him was gone and I decide to shampoo carpets and mop the kitchen floor? I was trying to find things to keep myself busy, keep my mind off the empty chair downstairs. And I suppose I couldn't do carpets earlier in the day while I was fooling with bread.
There was a time I really liked having a day or three or seven to myself. Now... not so much. I like to know Him is downstairs. That Him is there if I need him. That nothing will happen to Him while he is floating the river, on the bank fishing or driving on the road with crazy people. It gives me comfort to know where he is and that he is safe.
Him is home now, sitting in his chair downstairs in his man cave, Mason, the dog lays down there at his man's feet and I am, after two days, comforted and at peace.
How has your perspective changed as you aged?
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