She comes to my house from work to pick up our son after dropping him off to
me first thing in the morning. She’s exhausted and ready to collapse on the
couch. But the dog is genuinely excited to see her, our son is sleepy and grumpy after waking from a nap after schoolwork, and dad is just excited for
some adult conversation (even if it's brief, because she’s tired). I ask her
what her day was like, and I tell her what my day was like, what our son has
done at school, at home with me, what he’s eaten, and whether or not there is
still homework to be done. What I don’t say enough is “Thank you for working
hard” or “Can I fix you something to eat or rub your back or massage your
feet”. One day she’ll take me up on my rubdown offer, but I’ll keep practicing in my
mind until then.
She heads out on weekends to pay bills, wash clothes, visit the doctor, go grocery
shopping, and more. She wishes she didn’t have to pay so many bills, I wish she
never had to see another damn doctor, and we both wish Wal-Mart wasn’t so crowded when she goes.
What I never say with all of this wishing going on is “Thank you for taking care of
the things I can’t” or “Let me do all of this for you, and you rest today”. We
remember how tough life got for us individually, and how emotionally it left us both scarred sometimes collectively. What
I never say is “You are the best mother our son could ever have and I could
ever ask for” or “Thank you for being so strong when I was so weak”.
There are so many things, too many things I never get to say to LaShaun when
she sees me after work. Kind things, loving things, things that make my heart
swell to bursting with love for her, how she is my soul mate and my truest
friend and defender. How her smile lights up a room even when I’m not in that
room to experience it. I know this by the times she has lit my room up, and how
her eyes leave me practically spellbound.
It’s not that I don’t love her as much as I say I do. In reality, I love her
much more than that. We just get lost in the flow of everyday life and the
extraordinary things get pushed off to the sides of our minds. Before our son,
before demanding jobs, and life threatening illnesses, there was always time.
We often remember the quirky, the silly, and sometimes stupid things we would
do just to draw a smile to each others faces. It will forever be a romantic
sight to see the both of us moving in sync freely without a care in the world whenever we hear Barry White’s “My First, My Last, My Everything”. I would explain it if I could, but for 20 years its been our thing.
We talk about our time to our son as a younger, newer couple, how we met,
the love we shared, and the many countless acts of love. I tell her I love her,
give her a kiss on the forehead, and we say our goodbye as she drives away just
to do it all over again the next day. What I never say is “I am sorry that I’ve
fallen short of showing you and telling you how much I love you” and “I am
sorry life has robbed us of opportunities to genuinely love each other properly. One day it'll all make sense, and the lesson of time slipping away from those we genuinely love won't be so fleeting...
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