My life has been one long love story. Even now, as difficult as my life has been for the past year and a half, it is still a love story.
Mike just knows when I’m having a bad day like today, when I can barely make a meal. He just knows. He notices when my hands shake. He catches me crying in the kitchen as I drop something and make mistakes following a recipe. He folds me into his arms and lets me tuck my chin into his shoulder when I don’t have the words to say what used to fly out of my mouth like birdsong. He finishes tasks that I can’t because my chest hurts too much and my heart flutters. He doesn’t push or pull, but lets me flow in whatever direction I need.
Years ago, when Nick was so ill with pneumonia, Mike and I stood in the same kitchen one early morning, changing the watch. I was going to bed and explaining meds. It was his turn to be on call, to watch Nick breathe, to check his oxygen and heartrate, to administer meds. I put both hands on the counter and said, “This is so hard. We just need a break.” Maybe I said fucking break.
It was hard to watch our child struggle to breathe. It was hard to stay up half the night for two or three weeks on end twice a year. It was hard to stay packed for the ER and to be recognized as a frequent flier there. It really was hard.
“There are no breaks,” Mike replied and he lifted just one eyebrow.
I began to laugh and I couldn’t stop. I laughed until my ribs hurt. We laughed with tears in our eyes. It was a most ridiculous moment that we spent together in our little kitchen, a most ridiculous, horrendous, and lovely moment.
We are living that moment still. Together.
Thank you for listening, jules