How can I say this? This thing inside me, outside me?
I come out of the shower and find my bed is made. And then leave for a day or so. I make dinner, sleep, and in the morning take a couple hours to scrub the holy bejesus out of the bathroom.
It is overwhelming, a bit, I think as I take the trash to the garage, trying not to look at the floor, or the mess.
But there he is when he gets home, kissing me, wrapping his arms around me.
And when we are driving, taking my arm and putting it in his.
And later buying the items I suggest to help keep the house looking more tidy and more homey. He gets it all.
No questions asked.
And when my thumb starts bleeding again he hands me his hankie, no its okay I say, but he insists, and checks to make sure the bleeding has stopped.
And at home again, he lets me throw things away, without yelling.
I am cautious, are you sure this is okay? Are you feeling resentful?
Why would I be he asks me.
Why would you be, why would any one be resentful of such a thing, as we take the comforter that is old, too small, doesn’t match and is pilly and rough on my skin. And put a blue and green and lavender paisley duvet cover on the king size comforter.
Why would you be? Why would anyone be.
He helps me carry stuff out to the car, hands me a handful of band aids for my cut thumb after checking to make sure it is okay.
The goodbye is long, I do not want to go, he doesn’t want me to go. I am so unused to being wanted to not being shoved out the door, to lingering in a cuddle, to lingering over a kiss, to hugs that last a long time.
I don’t trust any of this. I keep waiting for the other shoe to fall.
But when I get home expecting to wash the dishes, I break down in tears, I put my head down on the table and sob like a baby.
You see he had done the dishes too, while I was in the shower, and I did not notice til now.