Ode to Jon
Or, owed to Jon.
This morning I found that I could roll over onto my right side for the first time since the surgery. Luckily I sleep on the side of the bed that works well with my current abilities -- I can roll to the left and carefully push up and not set off all the alarms and get out of bed without consequences. Anyway, the beauty of rolling to the right is now I can put my arms around Jon, which I did at the first opportunity.
Jon and Becca went to Arena Stage last night to a long play that was based on a Henry James novel. The plot was involved, the acting was great, the costumes were amazing. This morning Jon lay there and told me the whole story and I could imagine it all and understand all the nuances perfectly. It sounds like such a classic parlor drama, I got it. I would have liked it. But I liked lying there and hearing the story too because Jon was so animated and interested in remembering all the details.
Nobody really wants to read a love letter to someone else's husband so I will try not to wallow here.
But I need to say that we are in our 34th year of marriage and I have still never had any regrets. This is not even the crisis-induced superlative thinking that I have been experiencing, this is true fact. When you decide to marry someone, especially when you are kind of young (I was 25), you have NO idea what you are getting into. You have no clue whether you will still laugh with each other, whether the tics and idiosyncrasies will begin to outweigh the positives, whether you will still be glad to be in the same room all the time. Some people get lucky, and some people eventually find that they need to move on.
When we first met, the people who knew us best were quite surprised that this could even happen. Obviously, we are as different as possible except for our socio-economic beginnings, our solid family upbringings, our intelligence, our values. Other than that, we have so little in common. But that is also what makes the whole enterprise work. We can't have two bossy people in one family, and we don't need two people who can fix everything. The roles evolved pretty seamlessly.
But I could be describing a long-lasting business partnership, like our friend Jack has had with his partner Sam. They too are well-matched.
As in any good marriage, there is so much more to it. And when push comes to shove, as is inevitable, you get to find out just how deeply you can trust your life partner. When Jon got sick ten years ago, I threw myself into the task of keeping him alive in whatever way I could. When it was my turn a few weeks ago, Jon didn't flinch. I don't think he has taken the time to think about himself in this whole fast-moving story. He is taking care of me. He takes care of me in every possible way -- humoring me when I need to talk in the middle of the night, sorting and preparing my pills every day, feeding me, keeping the woodstove going, and even tidying up more than is normal for him. Almost the most important way to take care of me, though, is to keep me from fretting about how things are going on the farm. I need that greenhouse to be finished. We all do. So that is the priority now. I don't need much care and feeding anymore, I am mobile and capable (as long as I can plunge back onto the couch often). We have had our constant tussles over the years, unavoidably, about the manner in which I tell him what I want. Naturally, it is complicated when we are working at the same place, doing jobs which are completely intertwined even though also completely different (as I always say, Jon fixes and builds, I wear things out and dream up new projects). It takes a lot of finesse to keep ourselves from getting frustrated with each other.
We all need Jon. The farm certainly does, our family does, our various communities do. There is no way we could have guessed that he would become the best thing that ever happened to me (Jon's father once told me that I was the best thing that ever happened to Jon, which I have never forgotten, it was such a nice thing to hear). I haven't even mentioned his role as a dad, but he does that well too.
This is a totally self-indulgent post and I know I could have spared you this, but it is what is at the top of my mind this morning since I got to stay home on the couch last night but I also got to see the play through Jon's eyes. That is a good husband.
This morning I found that I could roll over onto my right side for the first time since the surgery. Luckily I sleep on the side of the bed that works well with my current abilities -- I can roll to the left and carefully push up and not set off all the alarms and get out of bed without consequences. Anyway, the beauty of rolling to the right is now I can put my arms around Jon, which I did at the first opportunity.
Jon and Becca went to Arena Stage last night to a long play that was based on a Henry James novel. The plot was involved, the acting was great, the costumes were amazing. This morning Jon lay there and told me the whole story and I could imagine it all and understand all the nuances perfectly. It sounds like such a classic parlor drama, I got it. I would have liked it. But I liked lying there and hearing the story too because Jon was so animated and interested in remembering all the details.
Nobody really wants to read a love letter to someone else's husband so I will try not to wallow here.
But I need to say that we are in our 34th year of marriage and I have still never had any regrets. This is not even the crisis-induced superlative thinking that I have been experiencing, this is true fact. When you decide to marry someone, especially when you are kind of young (I was 25), you have NO idea what you are getting into. You have no clue whether you will still laugh with each other, whether the tics and idiosyncrasies will begin to outweigh the positives, whether you will still be glad to be in the same room all the time. Some people get lucky, and some people eventually find that they need to move on.
When we first met, the people who knew us best were quite surprised that this could even happen. Obviously, we are as different as possible except for our socio-economic beginnings, our solid family upbringings, our intelligence, our values. Other than that, we have so little in common. But that is also what makes the whole enterprise work. We can't have two bossy people in one family, and we don't need two people who can fix everything. The roles evolved pretty seamlessly.
But I could be describing a long-lasting business partnership, like our friend Jack has had with his partner Sam. They too are well-matched.
As in any good marriage, there is so much more to it. And when push comes to shove, as is inevitable, you get to find out just how deeply you can trust your life partner. When Jon got sick ten years ago, I threw myself into the task of keeping him alive in whatever way I could. When it was my turn a few weeks ago, Jon didn't flinch. I don't think he has taken the time to think about himself in this whole fast-moving story. He is taking care of me. He takes care of me in every possible way -- humoring me when I need to talk in the middle of the night, sorting and preparing my pills every day, feeding me, keeping the woodstove going, and even tidying up more than is normal for him. Almost the most important way to take care of me, though, is to keep me from fretting about how things are going on the farm. I need that greenhouse to be finished. We all do. So that is the priority now. I don't need much care and feeding anymore, I am mobile and capable (as long as I can plunge back onto the couch often). We have had our constant tussles over the years, unavoidably, about the manner in which I tell him what I want. Naturally, it is complicated when we are working at the same place, doing jobs which are completely intertwined even though also completely different (as I always say, Jon fixes and builds, I wear things out and dream up new projects). It takes a lot of finesse to keep ourselves from getting frustrated with each other.
We all need Jon. The farm certainly does, our family does, our various communities do. There is no way we could have guessed that he would become the best thing that ever happened to me (Jon's father once told me that I was the best thing that ever happened to Jon, which I have never forgotten, it was such a nice thing to hear). I haven't even mentioned his role as a dad, but he does that well too.
This is a totally self-indulgent post and I know I could have spared you this, but it is what is at the top of my mind this morning since I got to stay home on the couch last night but I also got to see the play through Jon's eyes. That is a good husband.
Loved reading this <3
ReplyDeleteOnly thing wrong with this is that, in fact, EVERYONE (here) really wants to read a love letter to someone else's husband. Helen
ReplyDeleteThis was lovely to read. We all need to honor those most close to us more...
ReplyDeleteThank you for the very sweet (but not nauseatingly sweet) and well-deserved appreciation of your wonderful husband. It's so true -- we all need Jon. I have long said that one of my very favorite things about living at Blueberry Hill is that, at any moment, Jon might appear in my kitchen. Sometimes, he's there to help us fix something, but sometimes he's there to ask if we have any pickled ginger.
ReplyDeleteJust beautiful, thank you for sharing that.
ReplyDelete