On Task

My husband came in from work yesterday and noticed that there were boxes in the living room, a sweeper in the entry way and some of the kitchen drawers were on the kitchen table. The day started like this. I was cleaning out the closet under the stairs. It has been a catch all for anything that comes through the front door and doesn’t find its way up the steps. Coats, (which are supposed to be there) boxes of old bills, (Kirk keeps receipts from 1979), boxes of old record albums, (they might be worth something someday, especially the John Travolta/Olivia Newton John unopened one) and boxes of family pictures (mine never make it into albums). I’m cleaning the closet and think, I should sweep it out. I get out the vacuum and set it up. But I notice the whole downstairs needs vacuumed so I stop cleaning the closet and sweep. Done. Back to the closet. Wait, I think I saw some stray pictures in the kitchen junk drawer that should be in the picture box. I walk into the kitchen; pull out the drawer, which sticks from being overfull. And the one next to it is just as bad. I pull out the drawers and set them on the table to clean out after I’m done with the closet. I pull the pics from the drawer and head back to the closet. What’s that I hear? The dryer has shut off. I go upstairs to fold clothes and move the wet ones into the now empty dryer. I sit on the bed and fold the clothes. I won’t put them away, I hate putting away clothes. It’s weird, I love to wash and dry and even fold, but a wall always comes up when it comes to putting the clean clothes away. (I will eventually put them away, just not yet.) I get down off the four foot high bed and remember I have a box of old family pictures under the bed from the time we cleaned out Kirk’s mom’s house after she had passed away. I get down on the floor and reach under for the special box. I set the box on the bed and start going through the pictures. Two hours later, my husband is home wondering why the vacuum is in the entry, the contents of the closet strewn around the living room, kitchen drawers sitting on the table, folded clothes on the bed, where I sit surrounded by pictures. He looks at me in his Kirk way and says, “You need to learn to stay on task.” Oh, how boring my life would be if I stayed on task.

What do you see?

I was looking in the mirror today and was surprised with the reflection looking back.

When I look out at the world through my eyes, I look out through the eyes of a teenager who loved sports. I see the girl that loved to ride her bike around town with friends, who enjoyed being out all day, but remembered the five o’clock curfew to be in the house and washed up for dinner. I see the high school girl who dated the assortment of guys, searching for that special someone. Who found that person my junior year, but took a few years to realize how extraordinary that relationship was. I see the young mother, scrambling to make sure the family was happy and healthy. That each child got his or her equal shares of kisses and hugs. I see a young woman working hard when necessary and playing hard as much as possible, planning trips, making memories.

I look out through the eyes of a young woman who laid her head down on her Father’s chest the night before he passed and whispered, ”I Love You”. I look out and see the hurt that comes with losing that one person that has been a constant in your life.

I look out and see all those people, the girl, the young woman, the mother and wife. But what do you see? Perhaps a slightly overweight older woman with laugh lines that have turned into wrinkles, with grey roots framing her face.

It's okay. I’m happy with my journey. But now you know that what you see is not all there is...and all there is is wonderful.

Oh, Honey. I Love it!

This week is my husband and I’s 31^st wedding anniversary. Through all the years of good times and bad times, we overcame the adversities and worked through. All in all, it’s been a wonderful journey. There are just some things that you learn after being married this long. My wonderful husband when asked, simply states that he is just along for the Wendy ride. I think he means that I am the Lucy to his Ethel, his Hardy to my Laurel. I shudder to think of the times I’ve looked lovingly over in his direction with an uttered, “You know what might be a good idea?” Most of the time things worked out. There were a few disasters along the way, but those too made us stronger.

My husband is an amazing man, who I love dearly. He's generous and kind. He’s just not so great on the gift giving front. He’s great on those big occasions; a diamond tennis bracelet on the fifteenth and diamond earrings on the twentieth. One year, when he couldn't figure out what I wanted, he gave me pictures of items’ he thought I might want. A treadmill, a 35mm camera and I honestly can’t remember the third. To this day, whenever I have a birthday or anniversary or any other gift giving occasion the kids still ask, “What picture did you get this time?”

With that knowledge in the back of mind, I was shopping and I saw a necklace I’ve wanted that was on sale. I’m not into expensive jewelry so the fact that it was on sale for thirty-two dollars added to my excitement. I’ve wanted a silver watch necklace on a long chain to wear with my sweaters. So I had three choices:

A. Call the daughters and tell them where it is and have them run the idea past their Dad. (It’s worked before.)

B. Hint, Hint, Hint and hope that this time it takes. (This has never worked before, but you’re dealing with an eternal optimist.)

C. Do what works after 30 some years of marriage: buy it yourself.

I bought it. It was the last one and I knew A and B were just futile attempts to get exactly what I want.

Flash forward two days. Kirk and I are driving home from Costco and he’s telling me that the only day he could golf with his buddy next week on our vacation was Wednesday, our anniversary. My husband loves his golf. In fact, in order of importance I think it goes Golf, Dog, kids, Wife. He’s feeling a little guilty so it’s the perfect time to tell him about the gift. “Sounds like fun. By the way, do you want to know what you got me for my anniversary present?”

And my husband, that wonderful man who’s been by my side since we were sixteen, doesn’t miss a beat when he says, “Did I do well this year?”

I smile. “You did great!”

The smile I love crosses his face and he says, “Well, then. You’re welcome.”