I'm one of those anal-retentive people who likes my toothpaste to be squeezed from the bottom of the tube. It doesn't have to be exactly lined up or anything, but you get the idea. My husband John, who is a very spontaneous person, loves to mash a big dent right in the center of the tube. I was muttering to myself about it the other night. That was quickly replaced with a thought of perfect clarity.
What if I could always keep that tube rolled up just the way I like? The only reason that would happen is if I lost John from my life. If John died, I could have a lot of things just to my liking. And none of it would mean squat. I'd be squeezing and squirting that tube of toothpaste all over the bathroom as I cried to God to let me have more time with John.
John is beyond tired from another long, hot day of landscaping. He's 53 now and the energy he expends in his work takes so much more out of him than it did 20 years ago. All I want to do tonight is make him glad he came home to me. We can watch nonsense on TV, talk about current events,or enjoy some ice cream. Or I can once again broach the idea of John going to part-time work next year. I suspect there is lots more broaching and reassuring to be done before he puts his toe in that pool of water. But he has always accepted me the way I am. So the least I can do is return the favor.
I've got your back, John.
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