We moseyed around the Prudential Center after breakfast, this morning. I told my husband that I noticed a little pink watch that I liked. It wasn’t very expensive but it wasn’t cheap. As we came full circle he asked, ‘are you still thinking about the watch?’
Jake and I went back to the stand and we had a look at it. I tried it on and decided to buy it. I liked that this watch was tidy in all respects and that I could probably leave it on when playing the piano and violin. As we walked to meet my husband at the car, Jake asked. ‘You make your own money. How come you had to talk to dad about buying a watch?’
‘Dad and I always talk about how we're spending money,’ I explained, 'don't forget, we're saving to buy a house!'
‘Have a good concert!’ my family all chimed before giving me quick hugs and smiles and zooming off. My parents had a NY flight to catch back to Detroit, leaving me to head home, tonight, after the second concert.
Back in the practice room, I gave my pieces a whirl and delightfully checked on the time with a quick flick of my wrist. It was then that I realized that I forgot to show my husband this perfect little watch.
My husband trusts me implicitly. I also know he thinks the world of me. Sometimes I am distrustful that his strong feelings for me will endure. After all, my husband and I will be married 10 years this summer and nothing lasts forever, right? Aren’t things supposed to get old and head down hill as time passes? Especially if you throw a little special needs into the mix and living in one of the most expensive places in the world despite not being millionaires.... I recently read about a man grabbing his wife’s butt after 30 years of marriage and describing it as being no more exciting than grabbing his own. I don’t ever want to be that couple in the restaurant, looking everywhere else but at each other and having nothing to talk about.
Maybe things not coming entirely easy protects us and prevents my husband and I from completely taking each other - or the good things - for granted. Maybe loving our kids and feeling like we have to live to be 100 years old to make sure especially one of them is okay, keeps us forever striving to be young and lean and subsequently attractive enough for each other. I don’t know. The fact is. My husband lived with my parents all week and slept on a lumpy pull out couch with nary a complaint. I perform 3 times a year in Boston and it's basically a pain in the ass for everyone except me. I also didn’t really need a watch. I am a lucky girl and I love my husband.