February 14, 2018
Valentine's Day report
Young love was fun. Longterm love is different—different things are fun. Familiarity. Having a good woodpile. Memories. Projects. Grandchildren.
We're not always smiling. Some disclosure: Sometimes we start to recite one of our repeat arguments, but we remember it's a re-run, and jump to the end, or trail off. They're about feeding cats (how to), or putting tools up (one of us is too short sometimes, and figures "on the bench" is close enough), how to do laundry (mostly we do our own now, and it pisses me off that his isn't totally ruined for his not following my instructions).Keith and I have been married since 1984, and were a couple for six years before that. It averages out to 40 years, these days. This year, our youngest child turns 30; the oldest will be 35.
I guess the trick is to know it's about cats, tools, and laundry, and not about the soul of the other person.
Most mornings, we play three games of Dr. Mario. We're evenly matched, and if one of us wins all three, the other is probably unwell somehow. We've joked that it's our Alzheimer's test, but it can be an indicator of smaller problems, too.
"Are you okay?"
"I didn't sleep well," or "I was thinking about..." and then we can help each other.
Most evenings, we play two games of Five Crowns. I do all the shuffling and dealing. That started when Keith was recovering from 13 broken ribs and a broken sternum, after his life was saved in early 2019, and he was revived from cardiac arrest, by SCA friends, and then firemen, and then ICU doctors, all three in one day. So I shuffled and dealt when it was uncomfortable for him, and now I just do it because I do. Keith keeps score. It's a time we can talk, if we need to, and joke if we don't need to talk.
The photo above was taken by Rachael Rodgers, in November 2016. She took this one and several others that day:
Moments pass. Try to keep the peace.
