Douglas left home without his shirt this morning. Stop
laughing, this is serious. The humid summers here in Maryland are not conducive
to dress suits and ties and leather shoes. The temperatures have lingered in the 90’s; inside the suit, it’s about 107˚
with no circulation. So Douglas leaves a few suits, ties and pairs of
dress shoes in his office and commutes in shorts and a t-shirt, carrying his
dress shirt on a hanger covered in plastic. Once he realized he'd left without his shirt, he had two choices: return
home to get it, causing himself to be quite late for work, or call me to
fetch it.
Douglas leaves for work before 7:00 AM; often I’m still in
bed. This particular morning, I was up at 5:30 with him, wide awake in the dark
doing a little yoga before breakfast. I had walked him to the bus stop on my
way to walk in the park before the day got too hot. As we walked from the
house, he was reciting aloud, “Tie, socks . . .” naming the things he needed to
have with him. “Phone, Blackberry, badge . . .” I added. “Metro card . . .” he continued.
All but shirt.
I had just stepped into the park when my phone rang and he
asked me to get his shirt and meet him at the metro. I ran home. Ran. I’m not much
of a runner, but when Douglas needs something, I can run a few blocks. You know
that song, “But I would walk 500 miles, and I would walk 500 more, just to be
the man who walked 1,000 miles to fall down at your door?” That’s Douglas.
When I saw the look on his face, I thought of that saying,
“A picture is worth 1,000 words.” A facial expression communicates as much. I
saw such disappointment on him. I don’t know what he felt, but I can guess. In
one forgetful moment, he set himself up to look bad – needy, incapable, maybe even somewhat
selfish.
What I felt was compassionate agony, yet pleased that he knew he could depend on me
to help him out. I saw a busy man who had a life and mind full of obligations,
a man who has set our lives up to enable me to stay out of the work force and
make a home for us while pursuing my writing dreams and goals.
If the roles had been reversed, if I had left, say, for a
trip and forgotten my passport and I had to call him to bring it to me, he
would have apologized for not thinking to ask if I had it. And he would be
sincere in that apology, realizing that had he asked I would have had it. If I
had apologized for not mentioning ‘shirt’ on our way to the bus stop, he would
have thought it ridiculous. But Douglas so wants everything to be just right
and easy for those he loves, that he takes it upon himself when things go
wrong.
When he (rarely) needs something from me, I feel everything
from relieved to vital. I'm glad I have the freedom to drop whatever I'm doing to tend to his needs. I watch him step into these jobs and trainings with the
Foreign Service and I am amazed, sometimes to the point that I feel like I’m
stumbling just a little too much through life. To see him err makes me feel
less stress over my mistakes while it reminds me of how vital a presence I am
in his life.
I have become a homemaker, domestic, housewife – whatever
you want to call it. And I’m still surprised daily at how much I enjoy it (most
of it). It helps that Douglas notices when I’ve cleaned or tidied a room and
thanks me. It helps that he truly loves and appreciates my cooking (most of
it). He provides so I can be active in the church, take writing
classes, fly to visit friends and family. So to see his face that morning when
I handed him his shirt hurt me. I didn’t want him to feel all he was feeling.
It was just a shirt, for goodness sake. But I know that I’d have felt the same
thing.
I’m sharing this (with his permission) to remind all of my
readers (all eleven or so of you) that those around you love you and want to
help you. We’re glad we can help you. We’re glad you need us occasionally. We’d
rather help you than see you suffer in any way. Douglas and I are watching our
parents reach the time of life when they need extra help and we’re glad that
they tell us when they need us and let us step in and help. We recognize that
it’s not easy for them, but we hope they can keep some perspective and remember
all they’ve done for us.
This writing is a sort of love letter from me to Douglas. Don't stifle the living love letters of those around you by not asking for help when you need it.
