On any given morning, I certainly do not leap eagerly out of bed in my excitement to get to work. But this morning was even tougher than usual. I was wrapped up snugly in my husband’s arms, so comfy that it should be illegal, and if the alarm snooze would have stopped rudely interrupting me, I could easily have drifted right back to sleep.
On my commute this morning, I was pouting about being on my way to work instead of still cozy and happy in bed with my husband, when it occurred to me that it really wasn’t that bad. At the end of the work day, I would be heading home to him, to a home we love, to another evening and another morning of snuggling happily. There are worse things, right?
I thought about our roughest days. Over the past nearly 20 years, we have had some humdingers: jealous attacks, groundless accusations, depraved insults, endless court dates, confused questions and heartbreaking cries from four innocent children who didn’t understand what was happening and who were too often thrust into the middle of it by selfish others. It felt like a never-ending battlefield for a long time, but under that barrage of ceaseless cheap shots, one thing remained constant. We always ended up moving toward each other, protecting each other, finding comfort in each other.
As I thought about it this morning, instead of feeling angry, I smiled. I wished I could go back in time, find the two of us on one of those brutal days, and tell us: hey, you make it, you two. You make it through this. You come out on top. Because you will still be together, stronger than ever. You will end up married, happy, still deeply in love. Snuggly mornings wrapped around each other will bring you peace and joy every day. So hang in there, because it will be so worth it.
I have said it before, and I still mean it: the ones who fought so hard to drive us apart did nothing but forge us closer together. We have walked through their bullets and bombs, affronts and onslaughts, everything they could hurl at us, and when the smoke cleared, we were still together, still hand in hand, still loving each other.
Should I tell them “thank you”? Well, maybe. At one time, I might have even tossed in a hearty “fuck you” along with it, but I suspect that, given their loneliness, bitterness, and meaninglessness, life has already delivered more retaliatory middle fingers their way than I ever could.
I prefer to focus on us anyway. As if he can tell I am writing about him, my husband just texted me that he misses me. I miss him too. Maybe this evening, the chores, to-do list, and everything else can just wait. I want to hold onto him, appreciate everything around us, celebrate where we are, and look forward to many tomorrows with him. We earned it.
Sweat & Sparkle 