On Saturday, Andrew went and played bad-ass and got all sorts of bruised up doing this absolutely ridiculous obstacle course because he’s all that is man.
We don’t spend a lot of time away from each other. We live together, sleep together, work together, eat together, spend time out with friends together. We’re a very “together” couple. We like each other enough to spend 98% of our time together. It’s not something every couple could do, we realize that, but it works for us. Our relationship started as a working relationship and somehow we’ve been able to continue that relationship as our marriage and friendship have grown. Best of all, we haven’t killed each other yet.
Back to Saturday. Andrew was gone almost the entire day. The house was quiet. I’d given myself a list of 98 bagillion things I wanted to accomplish in his absence. I had an exam to study for. The garden needed love. I wanted to conduct some retail therapy. I was behind on blog reading, cleaning, dishes, cooking, everything.
When Andrew got up to get ready and leave at 5:30am, I got up with him. To study. To watch my shows. To clean the house. I studied, watched TV, did some light shopping and came home again. My heart just wasn’t in it.
I studied some more. But the house was too quiet and I couldn’t focus. The dog and I went outside, chased each other around the yard and pulled some weeds. But I was antsy. I wanted to do something else, anything else, I didn’t want to be responsible all day long. It was my day off! I wanted to have fun and do something for me.
So I made brownies. And scooped the batter from the bowl with my fingers and slurped it off.
I went for a run. I burnt off the brownie batter and yelled at myself to go, go GO! And ran faster than I ever have before.
I turned on some music, dug up my old playlists. Got moody, because I could. Sang out loud, because I could. Danced in the kitchen, because I could. Made homemade pretzels, because I could. Remembered things, reminisced with the ghosts of my before times, all because I could.
I forget, easily, that I’m in this for me. That I need to give me time to do what me wants to do.
I forget how much I like to be alone, without anyone there to listen when I warble through a favorite old song, or to change the radio station or remind me of things I need to do.
I’ve got a lot going on. It builds and builds and builds, these tasks and to-do lists and blocks that need checking. The piles keep getting piled upon and I forget about me. In the midst of work tasks, house tasks, school tasks, wife tasks I lose parts of me that need time to dance around the kitchen and sing sad songs. I start to forget because I don’t give myself time to remember. I get bogged down and start to ache because there’s just so much to do. I can’t catch my breath before moving on to the next thing, the next item on the list, the next box to check.
Andrew came home and we finished the pretzels together. They were amazing. Delicious. Filled with crazy-dancing Terra-love and covered in salt crystals. I missed him while he was gone, I always do. But I realized I missed me too.