“Moments in Time”
“Goodbye, Joe.” She didn’t actually say it, and later that evening she told me why. It would have made her too sad. She works some thirty minutes away, whereas I am retired. I’d been at her office because she was able to get me an appointment with a doctor on staff to take care of a small matter for me, which saved the half day I would have surely spent at my own clinic. Before I left I’d dropped by her office to make my goodbyes. It was weird.
The moment I got into her office and sat in the chair before her desk I wanted nothing more than to put my feet up on her desk and spend the rest of the afternoon just chatting with her. She’s high enough in the company that we might have gotten away with such a thing. And it’s so nice in her office because the walls are filled with framed items I’ve made for her over the years. I’m a cabinetmaker, and all the frames are ones I designed and made. But the main attraction, as always, was her, just being with her.
We have been married now some thirty-eight years, but to this day we love nothing more than just spending time with each other. We don’t have to be watching a movie or a football game or doing anything, really, not even having a drink together. We’ve done that on occasion, of course, and enjoyed the heck out of it, but most of the time we drink nothing more than water or a cup of coffee. I’ve said many times that I could quite happily spend the rest of my life with my feet on our coffee table, coffee cup in hand, talking to her about anything and everything, and sometimes nothing at all. Just being together is all we’ve ever needed.
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The absolute worst for us was the Orange County job. It’s been some twelve years since she left that particular job, but I still cringe at the memory of it. For four years and three months she left every Monday morning to commute to a job some 100 miles away, much too far for a daily commute, and did not return until Friday evening. We’re childless, so this house echoed quite a bit while she was gone. When she’d return for the weekend, I pretty much followed her from room to room like a puppy. When we retired those nights, I said good night as always and then, “I’m glad you’re home.” Those days are long since behind us, but I still end every evening with the same statement, “I’m glad you’re home.” Because I am. And because I never take her for granted.
Earlier this week, as I said, I stopped by her office to attend to that doctor visit (minor, minor stuff, thank goodness), but when I stopped by her office before leaving, I just had this overwhelming feeling of wanting to stay and spend the afternoon with her. But she has a job to attend to, and I had, as always, a great deal of work waiting for me at home.
Hers is a ground floor office with a sliding door that opens onto an enclosed patio overlooking the parking lot. As she watched me leave, she said, she wanted so badly to get in the pickup with me and go home for the afternoon to do… truthfully, not much. I told you. We’re happy just being with each other. But she knew she couldn’t. For a moment she considered calling after me, “Goodbye, Joe,” but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. It made her too sad.
It’s just a moment in our lives, and I’m not really sure why I decided to share it. Some time ago a maker of specialty coffees had as their slogan, “Celebrate the moments of your life.” My immediate response on hearing that slogan was that we already do celebrate the moments of our lives. And we’re lucky enough to know that every moment we spend together is one to celebrate… and treasure.
Joseph
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