Getting married to the love of my life wasn't the biggest mistake. The biggest mistake was thinking I could go on being who I thought I was supposed to be and she would fall in line. After all, I was the older, more experienced of the two. She would learn from all the wisdom I had garnered from my 22 years of life and would fall at my feet in adoration. Yeah, I made a mistake.
I remember when the change began. I was the kind of guy that would let things fall where they may when I walked in he door. You know, a bachelor. Shortly after the honeymoon I noticed a little white basket resting on a speaker by the front door to the apartment. My wife put it there so I could just dump everything in my pockets right in the basket. Being the loving spouse that she was, she would take the basket and carry it to the bedroom so I could have all of my stuff ready for when I left the apartment the next morning. This was a great arrangement. Already she was taking care of me. That was until the day I came home to find that she had rearranged the entire apartment. Okay, she didn't rearrange the entire apartment exactly, she just moved the basket on top of the other speaker. The one by the door to the bedroom. I had to take three giant steps across the apartment to get to my basket. But that's okay. I took those steps because I loved her. That was until I came home one day and she had done it again. She had moved my basket. Now I had to take yet another extra step into the bedroom where I found my basket on the dresser. This was getting ridiculous. If I wasn't careful I was going to end up finding my basket on the shelf in my closet one day. Well, I wasn't careful. I was now having to go on a scavenger hunt to find my basket. And there it was, neatly tucked away in the closet. I wanted to carry the basket and put it right back in the speaker by the front door. But that would defeat the purpose of my laziness if I walked it all back to the front door so I decided to let her win his little battle.
Twenty six years later found me taking my shoes off at the door, picking up any grass or debris as I walked in, and placing it in the nearest trash. I would go to my closet and put my stuff away on the shelf there, switch to my inside shoes, and walk back to the kitchen to have a snack. Then I would wipe down the counter and any crumbs that had fallen to the floor and eventually find my resting place on the couch. All of this I did while the missus was at work. Why was I doing this? What happened to the bachelor? I am not who I was. She changed me. How dare she! Because of her I am... a better man.
So, why wasn't I like this when I was a bachelor? I think the last seven months have proven to me that I was chiseled, shaped, morphed into a completely different being because I loved my wife. I wanted to do things for her. And it really only took her seven years of marriage to chisel away the bad and start shaping the good. She taught me to be a better steward with everything God had blessed us with.
Now she is gone and the first thing I do in the morning is make my bed. When I finish showering and shaving I wipe down the sink, spray down the shower, and put the towel and wash cloth in the hamper. I carry my work shoes to the door to put on there rather than wear them throughout the house. I clean my breakfast dishes before leaving for work. When I come home I try to take care of keeping the house neat and clean. But, why? Why should I bother? Part of me seems convinced that I must keep the house spotless for when she walks through that door. I want her to be proud of what I've done. I want her to see that I've done it for her so she doesn't have to clean up. She can just come sit and snuggle on the couch with me. But I know this is not the case. I am alone. No one else in the house. Utterly alone. No one to snuggle with.
Now cleaning seems self-serving. I don't want to keep the house clean for myself. I want to keep it clean for her. And, yes, I know she can't come back. I know she can only observe from beyond. And while that very thought sucks the very life from my bones, I pray she is indeed a part of that cloud of witnesses that watches me. I pray that she looks in through the windows and realized that I've done this all for her. And that I love and miss her more than words or those things that speak louder than words can ever convey. I hope she sees that she changed me into something I wasn't. She changed me for the better. I hope she sees it all.
That reminds me, I need to wash the windows.
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