After he checked on the kids, he opened our door, just as I was closing my book. "Do you have to get up early tomorrow," he asked?
"Yeah," I replied.
"Wow... You get home at 9 tonight and you have to get up at 5:30 tomorrow?"
"Actually 5:00. I need to get the earlier train."
"Why do you have to go to the city tomorrow?" His tone indicated that he truly didn't understand why I would need to come home so late and turn around the next morning to repeat the process. Thursday isn't a teaching day this semester, and it isn't a regular meeting day. I knew that explaining the work I had to do would take more effort than I had at that moment. I chose the answer that has universal understanding...
He nodded, suddenly understanding why I had asked him to switch his morning kid duty from Wednesday to Thursday this week. I had juggled my schedule so that he didn't have to do both days, knowing he is going to be handling a lot when I am traveling later this month and then again next month.
I prepared myself to chastise him for having the TV on while I tried to sleep. It's an ongoing conversation we have. He uses the tube to relax and fall asleep. I lie awake, disturbed by the flickering light and high-pitched hum that only I and the neighbors' dogs can hear. On the nights when I rise before dawn the next day, I play the "you get an extra 1.5 hours to sleep tomorrow" card. I was ready to play that hand last night.
But he surprised me. He nodded, said goodnight, and turned back to the hall, closing the door behind him. I heard the TV downstairs as I drifted to sleep. I don't know what time he came to bed. I fell asleep immediately, lulled by the sounds of silence in my bedroom and the feeling of content that my hubby finally "got it."
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