He’s a little older.
When we married, nearly 39 years ago, I looked into his hazel eyes and thought, “All I want to do is grow old with you.”
We’ve had triumphs: Kids and grandkids. Family. Work accomplishments. Good health. Peace and freedom.
We’ve had tragedies: Kids and grandkids. Family. Work setbacks. Health problems. Disharmony and shackles.
But we’ve shouldered on. Through good times and bad.
Just in case you are thinking, “Oh, my word, is she going to wade through an exposition of My Wonderful Life?” let me reassure you.
You’re not far wrong.
Because this is my usual long-winded way of getting to a story . . .
I’ve hit the wonderyears that we affectionately call mid-life.
Where nothing in my physical self seems to behave the way it used to.
The way it should.
My nights are spent vacillating between shedding and/or cocooning in my blankets. At times, both. As some parts freeze and others parboil.
Last night, I discovered one of the joys of growing older with someone else.
You have to know that Husby and I used to leap happily into bed without doing much more than donning PJs, scrubbing teeth and saying prayers.
Now, our evening routine is a litany of age-defying/life-augmenting practices. Ending with my careful application of wrinkle-reducing face creams and his donning of his sleep-apnea mask.
I must admit – we are quite a sight. Darth Vader meets Slime-Faced girl.
I see a horror movie in there somewhere.
Back to my story . . .
Last night, the-play-that-has-consumed-our-lives-since-January opened (more about that in a later post) and I was particularly keyed up.
Awake at 3 AM. Music from the play blasting through my mind. Blankets on. Blankets off. Turn to one side. Turn to the other. Blankets on. Blankets off. Face up. Face down.
You’ve totally been there.
Meanwhile, Husby was peacefully snoozing. His machine breathing quietly.
He rolled over to face me, and my poor overheated self was suddenly enveloped in a soft, cooling breeze.
I looked up at the window, but it was as it had been. Not really doing its part to alleviate anyone’s (ie. my) discomfort.
I turned back to Husby. Then I held out a hand in front of his face.
Ah! The lovely little breeze was emanating from the exhaust port in his mask.
I laid back, smiling, and let the cool air get in its wondrous work.
Soon, I was comfortable and cocooned once more.
You have to know that growing older definitely has its drawbacks.
But growing older with someone else yields definite perks.