Finding reason within turmoil

nine o' clock.

The sound of giggling in the bedroom next to mine tells me my children have not fallen asleep yet. Should be a few more hours of that before silence envelopes the house.

My husband is rehearsing with his band tonight. He is a drummer in addition to being a therapist, artist, dancer, author, athlete, father, lover.....

nine o' five.

A plane flies overhead...I can hear the rumble of its engines as it takes people away to the somewhere's off in the distance. It is finals week at the University...some of the passengers are likely to be students who had their last final today. Off to somewhere.

My puppy is laying next to my feet. His shaggy mane of fur feels cozy on my cold toes.

nine ten.

My heart is heavy.

I was less than gracious when told there was band practice tonight. I didn't want to share my husband. Didn't want to be alone. again.

The word "bitch" came to my mind as I fussed around the kitchen getting dinner ready in my disappointment and anger.

He works so hard. Sometimes overtime. He is on call 7 days a week, from 9 to 9. He gets more and more requests for relationship counseling after hours.

Don't get me wrong...I'm really proud of him. He's a truly amazing therapist, and a wonderful musician, a talented athlete, an inspiring writer....he's my best friend. I think he's great.

But...I didn't want to share him again. Not tonight.

I wanted to know that we would be together. Just talking. Listening. smiling.

maybe laughing.

maybe just...being.

But he had to go.

nine eighteen.

The heater just clicked on. It's frigged outside. The kind of cold that bites your breath on the inhale, and freezes your nostril hairs. Frostbite cold. Hypothermia cold. Colder than death.

The windows have a thick layer of ice on the inside...too cold to keep it at bay.

I think about the families that can't afford to pay their heating bills.

I think about my husbands job...and how it allows us to heat this house. To put food on the table. To have a cozy place to sleep. I think about all the writing I do, to help pay the bills, to buy Christmas gifts for our children.

We both work hard.

It's important to play hard too.

My husband knows that. He knows that in order to be the husband I love...he must BE the man he IS.

but I was mean about it anyway.

I didn't want him to go.

There are tears in my throat.

They are really always there. It doesn't take much to coax them out. A change of plans. something unexpected. Too many voices needing something I don't have. Too many bill collectors.

The absence of my babies.

nine twenty-five.

The toilet flushed. More giggles. The buzz of the computer.

Breathing.

Breathing.

He knows how to care for himself...so that he can BE himself...so that we can be...WE.

His example is a lesson...

I need to care for me too.

To do the things I need to do.

Yoga.

walking.

writing.

smiling...yes.

smiling would be nice.

There is this cloud that lives over me. It keeps blocking the sun from shining. Sometimes, I can see the rays of light peeking through, and it makes me so happy to know that the sun is really still there.

shining.

Sometimes, if I forget to think, I find myself smiling over little things...like a spoon put away with hardened pancake batter...or a load of dishes put in my an 8 year old that was exactly 3 plates, a cup and a few spoons...while the entire sink is still full. I smile over my puppy suddenly bouncing into the air...straight UP.
Or hearing the word "lasterday" come out of the rosebud mouth of a sparkling eyed boy.

I smile when I hear the familiar sound of my husbands car pull in front of our home on this frigid night. Because...that means I can tell him I am sorry for being un-supportive of his need to care for himself after a long day of giving to everyone else. It means I can hold him close...and try to let him know that it isn't that I didn't want him to release his tension through the rythem and funk of his music...rather, it is simply that I miss him.

I miss him.

I know he misses me too.

But, ultimately...I feel in my heart that I am really glad that he didn't let the fact that we are REALLY REALLY missing each other prevent him from being every part of who he is.

He is a giver.

He needs to replenish himself in order to face each day.

He is a lover.

He needs to love himself in order to provide love to all the eager faces in this house that need his love.

He is my friend.
He is his friend too.

nine thirty eight.

contemplation.

understanding.

peace.

There is that golden ray....the sun is still shining. somewhere.

Maybe I will see it in full force again soon.
I have to trust that I will.
Grief wants to shut that possibility out.

But...something else is helping it to shine through.

I hear the sound. The sound I've been waiting for.

He is home.

It is time.

He will understand...he always does.

It's what he does.