It occurred to me in the last twenty-four hours that I have a marriage that is an experiment in shorthand, of sorts, and if we knew Morse code, we might be able to relay messages more effectively than we do with plain old English language skills. Unwittingly, we tested our hand signals and eye contact prowess for three days!
Wednesday, seven a.m. my husband leaves for a destination on the east coast – something lingers in the air about New York state, but with the proliferation of cell phones, mine most importantly, there is no need to know his exact whereabouts except to satisfy a friend who likes to confuse his domestic travels with international ones. (Anne, is he in Dublin or Joplin?)
Wednesday night, my better half calls (message… can’t remember) while I’m escorting children to bed, and still have a sink-full of dishes to do, and some pesky e-mail to check. No communication for Wednesday.
Thursday, spouse is trotting about the countryside in NY (or going to a business meeting, not sure which), and the ETA for home is sometime between dinner and bedtime. Said ETA arrives, kids go to bed asking where dad is, and quite frankly, mom doesn’t know. “I’m sure he’ll be home soon…” I say authoritatively. He’s actually stuck in Detroit, but who knew? “Eleven-thirty-ish” he comes in and asks why I’m still up. I’m not, I just let the TV lull me into Leno-induced slumber. No other words spoken on Thursday.
Friday, seven a.m. my husband is dropping one child off at school and on his way to his office, (Lebanon or Lenexa, my friend will want to know.) I’m off with other child to school, meetings for impending auction, and work after that. Friday is also the day I agreed to pick up a slew of children at 3:15, bring them to our house, take them out for pizza, and then get them to a basketball practice. (Why, I’d like to know.) He arrives home just in time to help load the crew for the pizza run (I do allow a bathroom break) and off we go. He is given the title of Transportation Chief to the basketball practice, and I stay home with a child expecting overnight guest. (Why?) At “ten-ish” father and son arrive home exhausted from training (I’m tired just from watching the Olympics) and after a bath, some waffles (snack of choice for our son day or night), and a quick kiss among family, it is time for bed. I’m out before Leno has a chance to coax me. Minimal words spoken on Friday.
Saturday, eight a.m., Norbert and Nick are off to the all-day chess tournament (fortunately held in Leawood, close and unmistakable). Mother and daughter and guest go to the last basketball game of the season (can it really be true?). And, noon-ish I make my way to the chess extravaganza, where I quickly pick up my laptop to start writing. No one will ever believe that we actually coexisted for three days without speaking more than a dozen words. My husband sits right across the table from me, as I write, looking vaguely familiar, maybe I should re-introduce myself?
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