I’m not sure exactly when it was, possibly chemo treatment number four or five, but I remember lying in bed, recovering, and Mike walking out of our bathroom, stepping over my heaping pile of dirty clothes I kept forgetting to throw (a mere five feet away) into the hamper.
As I watched him step over the clothing, he turned around, collected the clothes and put them in the hamper.
I apologized. He was doing so much.
He was taking care of me, the boys, work, and the house. I could at least put my dirty laundry away.
“Sorry hun. I was going to get to it. I just forgot.”
“Ya know, Katy, this used to drive me nuts.
I used to get so annoyed with the wet towels on the floor.
I used to roll my eyes at the pile of laundry you left on the floor.
I used to lose my mind when I had to shut the drawers you kept leaving open.
I used to sigh and grumble whenever I saw the peanut butter left on the spoon in the sink.
Now, I don’t know.
It’s just not a thing.
I’m just grateful I get another day.
I just toss the wet towels over the rack without grouchin’ out.
I pause and smile when I put the laundry in the hamper.
I kinda just laugh a bit when I shut the open drawers, cuss a bit when I hit my shin on it.
I just lick the spoon when you’re kind enough to leave me a little extra peanut butter.
It’s crazy how all those things . . . I used to let bother me.
But now, I think to myself if you were gone, if I didn’t have you, I would miss this kind of stuff the most.”
He kissed my head, and left the room to let me rest.
And that my friends, is when you know you married up.
Five years later, I haven’t ever heard him complain about the towels, the laundry, the drawers, the peanut butter.
Little perspective shifts change everything, don’t they?
This post originally appeared on Katy Ursta