A Spring of Joy

“Tertiary mug!” he calls, laughing as he walks into our bedroom with a cup of coffee for me, and I wait for him to put the mug down before I throw a pillow at him. He laughs louder as he dodges it, and I shake my head as he giggles.

He knows that I I love my routines and how I must drink out of the same mug every morning for my coffee. He knows how hard it is for me to drink out of a different mug… a secondary or even tertiary mug can set my morning off just a bit if I allow it. So he jokes about it to lighten things up, to remind me of what’s really important.

There is a reason he reminds me.

His eyes bore into mine, “I haven’t been pursuing you well.” And I sigh, raggedly, “No, you haven’t, but I am the wife that makes you want to live on the corner of a rooftop. I wouldn’t want to pursue me either.” He grins, “You MUST love me.” I tilt my head, puzzled, as he continues, “You care enough to work things out so we won’t go on living this way.”

We struggle to survive. How do we thrive?

There is a reason he fights for us this way.

He is working late again trying to catch up (and I wonder if he ever will), and I can’t bear the thought of that empty bed without him again, so I fall asleep on the couch just to be with him. To be next to him.

There is a reason I want to be next to him.

First text. First phone call. First one I find when anything happens… when UVA calls with news, when I leave my appointments processing what’s been said, when the CT comes back clear, when tragedy strikes my life or the lives of others.

There is a reason he is the one I go to.

I am falling apart, feeling the weight of all we have gone through, completely overwhelmed with life, struggling to believe I am worth anything. “You are beautiful and amazing and I’m proud of you and I. love. you.” His forehead presses into mine as he encourages me, and we are staring into each other’s eyes almost desperate. “You have four eyes,” I whisper, thickly. “And you’re a cyclops,” he giggles, pulling me into a hug, and I cling to him.

“No more words. Just these. I. love. you.”

There is a reason I cling to him.

There is a reason.

He knows me.

I know him.

He has my heart.

It belongs to him.

He is my one.

He always will be.