My alarm went off early pulling me from a deep sleep, and all I wanted was to collapse back into the welcoming comfort of my bed. As I sat up in my morning haze I noted the space beside me was empty, and I honestly wasn’t surprised one bit. My husband had not come to bed. Again. I suddenly wondered if he knew…
I had found him in the living room, on the floor, curled up beside our sleeping daughter. She had succumbed to the sandman on her pink, pull-out sofa, and my husband’s head lay painfully cocked to the side as it rested on the collapsed arm of the Minnie Mouse furniture.
I knelt down beside them and touched my husband’s arm. I gently shook him at first, then more aggressively until his heavy eyelids blinked at me in confusion.
“Get in the bed.” I whispered. He nodded and I crept to the shower unsure if he would make it there or not, and as I stepped into the sweet heat of the shower spray, I wondered once again if he knew.
As I wiped the condensation off the fogged up mirror, remnants from my hot shower sticking to the glass, I thought I heard someone shuffling outside the bathroom door. I paused mid-wipe as I felt that peculiar feeling of someone waiting for me, and I opened the door to confirm my suspicions.
There he stood, my weary man, waiting to go into our bedroom. Our eyes met in silence and he blew me a kiss. Then he disappeared into the darkness. As I closed the bathroom door, trying to recapture the warm feeling that had been there prior, I felt my heart clinch at the memory of my husband moments before. I felt it so strongly then. I wondered if he knew…
I thought about the day before, how he had called me as I sat by the window watching the dark clouds roll in. “A storm’s coming.” He had said. My own personal meteorologist delivered his forecast into my ear.
I chuckled then to myself how he had continued the conversation, “Don’t get out in this weather!” He was always protecting me. He had then offered to pick up items I needed from the store on his way home to insure I stayed put. It was little things like that instance that really got to me, and made me hope that he knew.
I hoped that he knew I saw him present, that I saw him working diligently for us, for our relationship, and for our family. I hoped that he knew I couldn’t do this life without him, that even if I somehow managed to make things work on my own, that they’d never be what they are with him in it.
I wanted him to know that I couldn’t picture raising our children without him by my side, that the thought of it was unfathomable to me. I wanted him to know that I saw his sacrifice, his teamwork, his dedication to duty.
I wanted him to know that when he stood sentinel at the nursery on nights I worked, waiting in case the baby cried, taking her then so I had no chance of waking, even though he didn’t have to do it, that I noticed.
I hoped he knew that I appreciated the fact that he slept on the floor to do this, but that he knew I’d appreciate him even if he didn’t. I hoped that he knew it was more than that, more than a stop at the store after a long day, or taking baby duty on the weekend. Because it was so much more.
I hoped he knew that I thanked God for him every day. Every single day. I hoped he knew that I never wanted to take for granted the gift of him as my partner in this crazy life we had built together.
Did he know?
I thought then of the moment our eyes met, tired eyes meeting like passing ships in the night. I held his kiss in my heart, and the unspoken love his gaze had given me, and I knew. I knew that he knew.
He knew by more than my words. He knew by my actions that I was his, and he was mine. The look that had passed between us said, “You’re not alone. We’re in this together.” And that’s all the other needed to know.