Download MOG-2006-05-13.mp3 (Click to Listen)
He pretented to be asleep. I nudged him--still he refused to move. It was always the same story. He'd say, "I'll go to the track with you in the morning." Then when it was time to crawl of out of the bed we'd shared for 19 years, my dear husband just lay there, feigning sleep. I asked if he planned to join me in my three-mile power walk. He mumbled something unintelligble, packed his pillow beneath his head and returned to his stupor. Today, like always, my calls for lighter meals, more exercise, and doing more things together were summarily dismissed. I sat up in bed and prayed silently...for him...for me...for guidance...for relief.
Aside from the obvious health benefits, my objective was much more basic: I wanted more face time with him. To talk. To laugh. To hold him--to be held. I wanted simply to share his space--while he passionately acknowledged my presence. This morning however, my snoring husband acknkowledged little. I flapped the covers deliberately and got out of bed using far more movement and animation than were necessary. He stirred, but only slightly. I dressed quickly, and rushed to the track, eager to replace the stagnant solitude of my bedroom with refreshing park vistas.
I had exceeded my personal best this morning--not exactly record time, but darn good despite having to stop to get a gnat out of my eye and to discreetly unbunch my underwear. I slipped into the garage door, and seeing his car, I was painfully reminded of my earlier failure to rouse that man of mine. Oh, well. In the kitchen, I cupped my hand under the ice dispenser on the refrigerator door and rubbed two ice cubes around my neck and allowed them to drop inside my sports bra. I closed my eyes to savor the welcomed chill.
He grabbed me from behind. My ice cubes popped out and shattered on the ceramic floor. He wrapped one arm around me while twisting my shoulders with surprising force. Now, facing him I was speechless...my mind raced for answers. I was only gone 45 minutes--ok, an hour. Did I lock the door when I left? Did I set the alarm? Did some intruder defile our home? Remnants of a futile scream oozed from my throat. Who was this wild man...this...this animal!
His hand moved swiftly and deftly across my forehead, brushing my perspiration-soaked hair from my face, sending my "Breast Cancer Awareness" cap sailing across the kitchen like a pink frisby. His finger slowly traced the outline of my mouth. My eyes widened with recognition. My breath was stiffled as he pulled me closer to him. He plunged his tongue past my lips and lingered there. Mmmmmm. His body stiffened in important places. Mmmmmm, again. My size ten running shoes dangled inches from the floor as this uncontrolled being carried me through the dining room...past our family pictures draping the walls...(is that picture crooked?)...and into the bedroom. He whispered unmentionables in my ear...thankfully I remembered what they meant.
Oh my God! This is it!
He was all I wanted--physically fit or not, eating light or enjoying seconds, watching the game or allowing the game to watch him. I...huh...I mean...we plan to "run" again tomorrow.
Comments