They say seven is a lucky number.
Over the past few years one could describe my marriage as calm as Game Seven of the World Series with the home team down by one with bases juiced and two outs with the star player up to bat versus a closer that blows a save about every time Halley’s Comet drops by. Our existence together has not been one without its share of arguments over things large and small. Fun only came into play when our two little bundles of joy were enjoying a day at the park or a cool run in the backyard sprinkler.
The thunderclouds sat over our heads threatening rain with every verbal exchange beyond the “how was your day?”. A co-habitation more then a marriage, roommates versus lovers, our son definitely picked up on it by acting out more often then a two to three year old normally would. “We need to do something” was a theme, a forgotten promise, but never became a reality as the sky would poke some sunrays thru but the clouds would quickly swell up and smother them, pinching off any warmth.
Long nights behind the dim light emitted from my Gateway laptop, blinking numbers and virtual chips being thrown across a pixelized felt. Fold, raise, call, easier decisions to make then how to tell your wife that life together can’t go like this. Bluffing someone off their hand sedated my competitive spirit for the evening, but unable to enjoy the spoils of another night in the black (or red like this weekend) on my spreadsheet, made even poker become part of a routine to get by.
Could things change?
Would things change?
Is it worth it?
After a long session due to final tabling a low buy in tourney, I snuck in to each of their rooms just watch how peaceful how family was, and how much they meant to my happiness, thus decided to be selfish and fight for that peace. Ultimatums were not passed on, but the discussions between the holders of the rings were a little more serious then turning down my son’s requests for a new Hot Wheel supertrack at Target.
She finally saw our lives together thru my eyes, and the mirror image reflected back something she didn’t want to be anymore. That’s when I got my wife back.
Since that day at the doctor’s office someone new comes home with paint laced clothing and a smile about how her day went. The kids have responded by passing on their energy towards having fun versus being burdens. My perception of my family and my marriage has changed, I want to come home at night, I want to get my balls accidentally rattled because I was watching “Survivor” and didn’t see a charging now four year old come at me groin level for a hog pile, because dad is free game if he’s laying down on the carpeted floor in the porch.
Gone are the shards of broken glass around the house, no longer do I require to be Baryshnikov dancing en pointe to hold a conversation with my love not walk away mumbling with anger.
Finally the woman that I married came home, and I hope to see her next to me in Myrtle Beach, at Chuck E. Cheese, and in bed until my body has spent enough time swimming in Cap’n Cokes and decides to give up.
Happy anniversary hon, and I promise to try to be the guy that walked you back down the aisle seven years ago minus the scrapped and bleeding shin from softball because that really hurt as it stuck to my tux.
Thanks for dropping by, now I’m going to try to figure out the meaning behind my wife buying me lotion for an anniversary gift…