Category: love

I was in the garage this afternoon putting my shoes on, moments away from beginning a walk. I could feel the door open behind me. I already had my music going… the same song I’m writing this to. I needed this alone time today.

A busy morning of prepping, this day feeling so different. Because of the pandemic and also because it was 60 degrees on Thanksgiving. Through the open door emerges Ian, lips moving but I was already somewhere else in my head. I pull an AirPod out and hear him say, “I love you. I want to go on a walk with you.” I said, “sure” but truth be told, I begrudgingly agreed. I really wanted this time alone.

I turn off my music, grab a water bottle and we start walking. By the time we got around the corner, I was grinning. We were playing this game he made up, connecting in a way that only comes when there’s nothing else but each other. We walked throughout the neighborhood like that for a mile and a half. As we rounded the corner onto our street, he looks at me and, in all seriousness, says, “Race you!” I start laughing and he takes off.

We have been together for 258 days and this was as connected as I’ve felt in all those days. I need to do this more. I will do those more. Together without distractions. Just us.

And that song playing? “Home.” Sure, home is a place. But it is also Ian. And Joey. And Jason. And Buddy. For the past 258 days and when we’re again able to venture far, home will always be “wherever I am with you.”

In a year that feels like we’ve lost so much, we’ve really had it all all along.

Happy Thanksgiving to all.

Love can look like many things. There are those big, bold expressions of love. Flowers, dinner, a special gift. Celebrations and reminders of where you’ve been and how you’ve grown together.

Other times it looks like a basket of laundry that’s folded, a dishwasher emptied, counters wiped clean. Reminders of a partnership, that sometimes a 50/50 balance isn’t possible and love is carrying an extra load for a while.

And then there are other smaller gestures of love. I’ve continued to struggle after my (traumatic) tooth extraction earlier this week. I’ve been ok with Advil or Tylenol. Not pain-free but bearable. But then when it wears off, I’m throbbing again. More Advil, wait for it to kick in, the cycle continues. I haven’t slept more than 2 hours in a row since Sunday.

Jason knows my history of teeth pain. He’s been there through more than a half-dozen “hot” teeth resulting in 10 root canals, three extractions, two dry sockets, over a dozen crowns, an apicoectomy and countless worried days and nights about every little ache in my teeth. This week is something he’s used to, even though he’s never had teeth pain. He knows how to talk me down when I worry it will never get better, gets up countless times in the middle of the night to get me a cold coke or a bottle of water or my antibiotics or hold my hand while I cry. Gently reminding me that crying just makes it worse. Making meals. Coordinating all the things. Becoming the captain of our ship until I come out on the other side. We do teeth pain well.

And today was a time when a small gesture of love felt greater than a big, bold celebration of love. Jason had a quart of delicious, warm broccoli cheddar soup from Panera delivered right to our door. Can you imagine? I think it’s one of the best things I’ve ever eaten in all my life.

Love. Big, bold celebrations. Carrying more weight when the other cannot. Small gestures that feel bigger than big ones.

And knowing that a bowl of soup = true love.