Today is my husband’s birthday, and for two weeks, we are the same age. This in itself is unusual because past history would evidence that for the most part, I have always chosen older men. Practicality must have entered in somewhere (that, or the natural maturation of the male species at a later age) and I am the better for it.
That said, long before I was threatened with the possibility of genetically linked diminishing mental capacity, I took to keeping daily, weekly and even hourly lists of what needed to be done mainly because of the ability to multitask required in today’s living routine. I recall that prior to our blessed union, my companion found one of these notes, loaded with things like: “Cut peach trees, Computer: sales tax, FA records, b.d. card – John, Lisa, Dad, Call C…, etc.
After he had left for work that morning, I found the note with this inclusion—not in my own handwriting: “Love J.” It made me stop and pause a minute to rethink what was indeed a list of have-to-dos, want-to-dos, and automatically done-to-dos. He is most understanding of my needs and desires to fulfill my soul, as I am of his. (This did not prevent me, however, from sewing up the opening on his underwear one evening, leaving him the next morning in quite the odd scenario of being caught by a coworker in the company men’s room holding a pocketknife precariously close to his person in order to cut the thread.) But life should be a constant manipulation of “things”—at least for my lifestyle. Peace and tranquility are not yet something I strive to achieve. . Today’s list includes tasks from all areas of my life: “Laundry, S&S – bread & ½ and ½, Feed the pretty birds, Kill the ugly voles, etc.” and I have just finished a paper due from that part of me who is a student.
Enough for now; I must go and make an apple pie as a confirmation of my love for the one who understands me.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology