Tornadoes in the Bedroom

The tornado sirens startled howling around midnight last night.  As a very light sleeper I flinched at every rumble of thunder but when that alarm sounded I sat straight up and screamed “KRIS!” and grabbed for his arm.  That’s where it would have ended for me because I hear that siren all the time (weekly tests) and think nothing of it so naturally I thought nothing of it during the middle of the night.  It was Kris who got me out of bed and told me to get Farrah and take her downstairs.  It was Kris who grabbed Arlo and laid him on the sofa and covered him with a blanket and it was Kris who kept up with the news while the three of us sort-of passed out on the sweaty leather cushions.  It was Kris who paid attention for us all.  And there it is, a snapshot of our marriage.

Another picture:  Me on the bike with Farrah seated in front and Arlo seated in back, everyone buckled and donning a helmet, rolling down a neighborhood street.  Kris, hair blowing in the wind and in flip-flops, light as a feather and free as a bird, lifting his hands off the bars and yelling “Arlo!  Look at this!  Whoo-hooooo!” as he flies past us.  I have all the water, snacks, diapers and rain gear; he has wings.

Bike

Sometimes, most of the time, my husband and I live very, very separate lives and sometimes, most of the time, that scares me.  When the exhaustion and monotony peak it also infuriates me.

Another moment captured:

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“Hey, would you put together some of my shirts and ties for my trip, whatever you think would look nice?”

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And suddenly the thought of him being away on a business trip doesn’t seem so unfair.  I’m going with him too, he’ll be wearing my thoughtful choices and I’ll be a part of his achievements that day, no matter how far away.  And that’s another snapshot of our marriage.  Someday we’ll have our weekend getaways and someday we’ll have a date night, but for now it’s silk ties in the closet and tornadoes in the bedroom.

 

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One thought on “Tornadoes in the Bedroom

  1. Pingback: Yik Yak Snapchat Throw Your Mom a Bone | Black Panty Salvation

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