11 - Topsy-Turvy Household / FIREWORKS

11 – Topsy-Turvy Household/ FIREWORKS

No particular date, these things just have happened since Mid-May, 2018.

David and I have been married 11 years, after dating 2 years.  The first two years of our marriage, we lived in separate states.  I had two years left before I could retire from my career with NC Public Schools.

Wedding Day, June 30, 2007 in Hawaii

We’ve based our relationship on “Appreciate and Reciprocate.”  We appreciate the efforts of each other, and reciprocate kindnesses back in turn.  I think it is part of what makes our relationship work.

Once we combined households, we settled into a pretty good team operation.  Our “division of labor” fell into place almost naturally.  He loves to cook – so I let him!  I don’t mind washing the dishes at all.  I do the laundry, he empties the trash.  If something breaks, he fixes it.  I do the cleaning and the cat boxes. He mows the grass, I try to keep the flowers planted.  We shop together. 

He has PTSD; one of my main “jobs” is to try to keep things on a smooth, even, calm keel.  I sometimes have to work hard to make a “drama-free zone” but over the years I’ve learned a few tricks that make it easier for both of us.  I know when he needs to take a break, and I encourage him to go play a round of golf, or take a ski trip, or just go for a ride on the boat. 

I tend to be task-driven and I like to have projects going on.  He knows when I want to be productive, and gives me space to spend time at my sewing machines (yes, plural, I have six) or playing piano or harp.

Then one day, MG came along and everything went topsy-turvy.

Suddenly, I couldn’t pull my share of the chores.  Basically, I couldn’t do much of anything.  I couldn’t even dress myself.   

He didn’t miss a beat.  He picked up all the chores I had to drop (even the cat boxes, which he hates).  He did not make me feel guilty or “less-than” because I wasn’t able to do even the most minor things.  He did not complain one bit.  He laughed and joked, keeping a running banter going that kept my spirits high.

When I did not have the breath support to speak, we sat in the same room and just texted, long conversations about anything or nothing, just continuing to communicate in a way that wouldn’t hurt me.  He helped me in the shower, he washed my hair.  Each morning, he helped me get dressed, put lotion on my skin, brush my hair.  He prepared delicious and nutritious meals that are easy for me to eat.  He doled out my medications on schedule – even when that meant setting alarms to get up in the middle of the night for a pill for me.  He continually focused on the fact that WE would find our “new normal” again soon. 

One of the major things that aggravate MG is stress.  So now here was a huge role reversal for us.  I’ve always been the “stress-buffer” in the household for him, but now he will be doing the same for me.  I am confident that he is up to the challenge.  Together, we can do this with and for each other. 

I cannot imagine facing the horror of these past few weeks without him.   He has been my advocate, my voice, my encourager, my chef, my cheerleader, my friend, my caretaker.  He is my rock, my vision, my love. 

“All I need is the air that I breathe, and to love you….”

***   ***   ***   ***   *** 

Untethered Time Travel:  FIREWORKS

It is late summer of 2005, I am 49 years old. 

I am standing in the kitchen of my small apartment.  I am wearing a pink and brown batik shirt I got in Ghana.  It’s late afternoon and I’ve spent the day with David. We met “officially” online and have communicated for weeks, 

but this is our first official face-to-face date.  

We watched a movie, had dinner at La Fogata.  Now he is about to leave.  

His smile is sweet. His eyes are kind.  He is taller than me and I have to look up to see his face.  He leans over to kiss me.  It is a very gentle, sweet short kiss.

I see fireworks at the touch of his lips to mine.

It's been many years now, and I still see the fireworks, every time.