Whew.
Thanksgiving is over.
I got past the disappointment of not being with all five of my sons sharing turkey and sweet potato casserole the first time in decades – and then looking around the table at my huge family network as it expanded and contracted over the burgeoning years.
I embraced with optimism the fact that vaccines are on their way. And I continue to adapt to more severe social distancing and cocooning at home now that the Covid 19 deaths and diagnoses are sky rocketing once again.
And when I start to go down the Covid rabbit hole of despair and disappointment? I remind myself that I have a very nice roof over my head, no food insecurity and a shelf in my garage filled with toilet paper and paper towels.
Which brings me to the next issue: How to be kind to my husband. Confined at home, it’s so easy to get naggy and irritated by the random little things he does. Why? Because I am spending so much more time with him now that Covid is raging.
So, as reminder to myself and to others, I decided to run this week a column I wrote on keeping an aging marriage sparkly.
Preserve the Practice of Ritual
When we were first married, every morning my husband would sit on the edge of our king-size bed and circle my slim waist with his massive hands. Facing him, with a large toothed comb in one hand and globs of conditioner in my other hand, I’d transform his mass of dark curly locks into a more professional look. Then he would pull me close for a warm embrace before reluctantly releasing me from his muscled grasp.
This “Harlequin Moment” gradually dwindled both in brevity and regularity with the arrival of babies who grew into toddlers and toddlers who grew into nursery-school goers. Early morning chaos replaced the previous Zen-like beginning of our day.
My husband’s curly locks and heavily muscled back are gone, as is my slim waist. The toddlers are grown with families of their own. No pressing work demands await us. And we wake up once again – just the two of us.
Our new morning ritual begins with me now facing his back, not his chest. Magical cream designed to block nerve pain has replaced the hair pick and conditioner. With long, smooth strokes, I carefully apply the cream to his back, shoulders and lower torso – cream that enables him to walk a few city blocks with relative ease.
The series of actions I performed according to a prescribed order has changed, but the ritual of doing something intimately and consistently with my husband has been re-ignited.
Show your Best Side to your Spouse
My charm, cleverness and sense of humor are often other-directed – into my writing. To my wide circle of friends. To utter strangers. How was I treating the man I had been married to for nearly forty-five years? With shock, I started noticing a shrillness creeping into my voice when I spoke to him. A dismissive, insensitive tone. A condescending way of answering his never-ending basic questions about how to use the note section in his cell phone.
I silently instigated a campaign to “lose the snippiness.” I stopped myself from getting irritated at the way he clapped too loud when watching sports events on TV. I stopped criticizing his relatives, even when I felt I was right. I stopped complaining about his clothes thrown on the floor and his cane invariably left in a place where I would most likely trip over it. I stopped denigrating his food preferences for what I considered to be bland and uninteresting.
Apply Kindness
Instead of leaving him a written, blistering note full of directions and exclamation marks (and a few expletives too), I started politely asking him to call the landscaper and check on the bushes against the southern wall that were withering. Instead of bitchily shooting off strident directions, I started laughing at his inability to take a decent picture with his iPhone. Instead of displaying ill-concealed and irritated impatience, I started respectfully listening to his political opinions with full attention.
The random acts of kindness, gentleness and compassion I’d been showering on friends and strangers was now drizzling down to the most important person in my life – my partner.
It’s funny. There seems to be less clothes on the floor for me to trip over. His camera skills may be improving. He’s not clapping as loudly when OSU scores a touchdown and he’s experimenting with new foods.
Or is it just my imagination?
Perhaps it’s just that my new approach has sharpened my focus on why I fell in love with him in the first place.
Keep Preserving Your Bloom,
Iris Ruth Pastor