We had just laid down to sleep and I didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to let my emotions rile me up while I tried to calm down, didn't want to think, just wanted to drift off.
But he asked and I let him know.
Let him know in terse one word answers.
Let him know in my body language.
Let him know, "I'm not happy, not with you, not with anything and I don't want to talk about it, so leave me alone."
But he didn't leave me alone. He reached over and, in the dark, touched my shoulder and whispered in my ear, "I'm sorry."
And he was sincere. And wanting to put me at ease. And taking my issues seriously, with gentle care.
And then he began to rub my hair so I could fall asleep.
And today I watch him fiddle with his guitar and I think, What kind of man is this that I married? That he wouldn't be defensive against my attacks, but that he would take my side through them.
What beauty is this that he can look at me, with my offensive behavior and not push me away, but rather pull me close.
And then he's done with the guitar and asks, "Would it bother you if I go play my drums?"
And then he's gone, taking my petty problems out on his drums, releasing my frustrations through his hands.
And his banging sounds like love.
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| Can we raise 4 boys to be just like him? i hope i hope i hope |
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