22 March 2012

I realized today that if I want to keep him around for another

thirty years that I am the one who has to make the changes.

I am the one who has to make the right food.

He is a grown man but somehow he just doesn't get it.

  

He loves Chinese food.

And bird wings.

And cookies.

And beer.

But I make the menu plan.

I shop for the food, although he does do a lot of that for me.

I prepare the food.

I present it to him.



I am busy and on my feet most of the day.

In the evening, I'm done.

I want to knit, read, visit with him.

He sits in a chair, in a car, on a plane.

In the evening he should walk, run, ride.

I should accommodate that.

I should go with him

or at least encourage him to do it.

Gosh, we never know how many days we have on this earth.

We never know what tomorrow holds.

And wouldn't I feel sad if tomorrow never came

and there was something I could have done about it?

Nothing bad has happened.

Nothing new has been diagnosed.

We have had no "warning signs".

But when your husband is gone as much as mine is

and when you love him as much as I do,

it makes you want to cherish every day

that you do have.

And it makes you want to keep him with you

as long as you possibly can.