I wake at 1 am and toss and turn, strangling the sheets, as I think about a 7 am Zoom. How will I get through it if I only get three and a half hours of sleep?
I get through the Zoom.
I drive to town to meet my daughter for our regular Thursday shopping and lunch date.
Returning home a few hours later, I haul multiple bags brimming with groceries from the car into the house. I lift, reach and bend, transferring boxes, cans and fresh produce into the pantry, fridge and freezer.
When I’ve finished this task, Nora and Quinn turn their begging eyes my way: Is it time for a walk?
I walk briskly and efficiently through the bush with the dogs.
Can I do a workout? Yes. I skip at a vigorous pace.
As I sip my afternoon coffee, I smile and think of all I’ve achieved today. Who needs sleep? I’m doing well.
Then Andy arrives home. He says he’ll make dinner. But there’s no need: I’ve found some meatballs in the freezer. They just need heating and adding to pasta.
There’s only one problem: there are only enough meatballs for two.
“You and Gemma-Rose can have the meatballs,” I say. “I’ll have the sausage that’s leftover from yesterday.”
Andy agrees with my plan. And that’s when my day falls apart. My husband was supposed to say, “We’ll share the meatballs. Perhaps we can add some salad if there’s not quite enough.”
But Andy doesn’t say that because he’s not a mind reader. He thinks I want the sausage. But I don’t. I want meatballs. They’re stuffed with cheese. They’re delicious.
Reason abandons me. I decide not to have dinner: “I’m not hungry.” But I am. I watch Andy eat his meatballs. My insides churn. My stomach rumbles. What do I do? Somehow, I’ve got myself into a difficult situation, and I don’t know how to fix it.
8 pm arrives. I announce, “I’m going to bed.” It’s still early, but I’ve had enough. As I slide between the sheets, I feel relieved. My day is ending. Andy is probably relieved that my day is ending, too.
The following day, I say to Andy, “Good morning. I’m sorry about last night.”
My love wraps his arms around me and draws me close, saying, “That’s okay. You were tired.”
He understands. He treats me with kindness. I can be kind, too.
Instead of being angry with myself for my unreasonable behaviour, I think about love. My love loves me even on my not-so-nice days. His love is changing me. I also want to love well.
Next time there are not enough meatballs, I will say, “Shall we share what we have?” I won’t worry about missing out.
Not enough turns into plenty when it’s combined with love.
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Every evening, our dogs wait by the window, watching out for Andy to arrive home.
