The Lightness

May is over. We are knee deep in June now. It's a recovery month for the both of us. We're adjusting slowly and trying to figure out what the hell happened in May.

"I just need a light at the end of the tunnel." I said to him as I was almost begging for any kind of trip out of town for the 2 of us. "I know, " he agreed. "I just need to make sure the light isn't an on coming train."

If that doesn't sum up how men and women think, I don't know what does. Think about it.

I knew he was right. He checked off everything still going on 'his mother's 2 serious surgeries, his cat dying (yes the fucking cat died), my recovery, his recovery and continuous tests.

My work schedule has me slammed until July and that's when he's traveling next. 2013...I'm not a fan of your humor this year. Ever hear of taking a break?

We couldn't jump into a week long vacation just yet. 

I was hoping we'd both blink at the start of this month and somehow all would be healed. He has more interal scars and mine are just starting to heel. My stiches aren't even out yet. But my desire for normalcy is growing even though I'm mentally and physically still lagging behind.

We talk about it though. And even though sometimes we talk in tunnel metaphors, it works for us. He squeezes my hand and I rub his shoulder in response. We're talking. We're here and we're present. 

I tell him that I hate that under doctors orders I haven't been able to run in over two weeks. I feel tired and cranky and lazy. He says I shouldn't feel bad, he hasn't been running since the Bush administration. I ask, which one. He replied quickly, the first one. 

He complains about eating salads and how after over 2 weeks of not drinking and sticking to fruits and veggies per his doctor, he's cranky and hungry. And somehow we're in this same rocky, sinking boat that we're both trying to excape from but need to mend first.

Even though the last few months have been challenging I still don't want anything else. Not from him or anyone else. I can't imagaine being where some  of my other friends are right now...engaged or married. 

Suddenly when you have a ring on your finger or start having kids your relationship ends. You become what you're doing. You are engaged. You are married. You aren't with a boyfriend and you aren't in a relationship. Talking about the work that goes into the relationship stops. Suddenly, there are no problems to speak of. 

Everything becomes a to -do list. I ask friends about their fiancees or husbands and they're all somehow doing just amazingly fine. They're too busy helping plan a wedding to be anything else. 

This is the part I don't understand. How everything just becomes a title and nothing else is talked about. You're married. You don't mention the difficulties anymore...you don't mention the worries you have about him. 

Where does the relationship go when the ring goes on? I really don't know. 

All I know is that right now I'd rather have this: a silly tunnel metaphor we both understand and a really great kiss at the end of date night.