Bryan was pulling files from an old hard drive and found a lovely peek into our past, below. Something he had written nearly 6 years ago.
My wife called to me from another room. This wasn’t a happy call. Her tone was different. Very different. Crap. What could I have done already? It’s 6:00 in the morning and all I did was walk into the kitchen to make coffee. I am in the kitchen, right?
Please understand – I don’t react well to mornings. Oil and water. Cats and dogs. Catering and Hanibal Lechter. Me and mornings. We just don’t work well together. Never have. I don’t think of this as anything strange, that’s just the way I am. I would get in trouble constantly as a kid because I wasn’t ready to have a conversation with my mom while I tried to eat my Cap’n Crunch. I would sit and stare at the Little Rascals, trying to figure out who I was and how I got there. There was rarely any change in these things, I just never could figure them out for the first hour or so. As I got into my teens and twenties, coffee helped, but is there ever really enough coffee?
Now that I am older and have some semblance of control over my life, I have taken to getting up about an hour before my wife to avoid any human contact until I’m ready for it. This has helped our relationship. A lot. So there I was, trying to separate a single coffee filter from the rest of the defensive herd and I hear her call me from someplace other than here. I look around me. Yep, I’m in the kitchen. Our kitchen. Great! 2 for 2 so far. (The little victories are important.) Crap. Did I forget to get her up in time for work? Time check: 6am. Nope. She doesn’t get up for another hour. Why is she up? Is she up? I shuffle through the house to find out where she is and find her sitting on the floor in the bathroom.
“Is this blue?” she asks, poking a white stick towards me.
It’s a white stick starts to formulate in my head but never gets any farther than that. “Let me see…” I take a close look and see that it is a white stick with two blue lines on it. I look back and forth from the stick to my now very intent wife. STICK WITH BLUE LINES. I’m in the ball park now, but a very intense game is already in progress.
“It’s blue. What does blue mean? It’s blue, right? Is that blue?”
Blue blue blue blue blue red means stop green means go yellow means go blue blue that Singles movie blue blue blue blue blue DIRECTIONS! “Can I see the paper?” I finally mumble as I sit. Aimee hands me a sheet of paper with some tiny little lines of text that must be the directions in 5 different languages. Clear Blue Easy. False advertising. I skim over the sheet and find the little diagrams that I hoped would be there. OK. No blue line means no. Blue line means yes. I look at the stick and see a bright blue line beaming from beneath the blue control line.
The frenzy from there is still a blur for me. All the smiling and jumping and hugging and kissing was just too much for my fogged in mind to process.
P.S. 30 Days of Thanks
Is it possible we have a kid?