On my way to work this morning I was writing my post in my head, amidst mental tears and audible deep breaths as I tried to consciously stem the panic I was feeling.
I was going to tell you about how my husband did NOT find a car because he can’t fucking do ANYTHING without me. And how he left the fucking garbage OUTSIDE in FLORIDA and not on the mutherfucking CURB like it was supposed to be this morning. And how he called me to tell me he needed a $225 phone for work and a $100 monthly plan TODAY – just for him, just for work, on top of whatever plan we’ll need as a family. And how “they take it out of your check” is not the same as not fucking PAYING FOR IT.
I was going to talk about the walls closing in. About how any talk of unexpected expenses always makes it difficult for me to breathe. Literally. About the fear and doubt and regret and oh my god the FEAR that had just begun to ebb towards the farther recesses of my mind that was now all of a sudden on top of me, crushing me. About how sorry I was, how wrong I was, how pissed I was that I had been so wrong about this whole fucking idea of moving.
Oh. Lord. That would have been some post.
But then, he called back.
He almost never calls back. And when he does, it usually leads to a silent conversation as I sit and wait for him to say something, anything, and he sits and waits for it to just go away.
But this morning, there wasn’t silence.
This morning he called and said “baby, I’m not mad, and we are going to be OK.”
And then he talked. And talked. And talked. For almost twenty minutes, he talked. About the unexpected and the stress and the fear. And how it was going to be OK. Not just “we’ll be fine”, but really, truly, HOW we were going to be OK.
I felt the elephant get up off of my chest and walk to the corner of my room and the air return to my lungs.
I realized he was holding me up. Some how, inexplicably, from 30 miles away and across a cell phone connection, he was actually giving me strength. And air. And comfort. And hope.
For the first time in a very long time, when he said “and no matter what baby, we have each other,” I knew that that meant something.
Hell, for the first time in forever, it meant everything.
For the first time in an eternity, it was enough.