To Her, with Love
It's 9 P.M. As this man is just getting home from work. He's tired, hungry and really in need of a shower and not to mention a full body massage. Wishful thinking. He slowly makes his way to his front door expecting to open it and see a spotless home, dinner on the stove, a sleeping child and a wife ready to serve him all while wearing heels and lingerie. Those expectations are met with quite the opposite.
He sees his wife in bed, sweat pants on, hair in a bun and his child latched to what used to be his property. Something that over the course of 2 years can get a man jealous. But who's counting? He proceeds towards the bathroom but not before trying to avoid the heavy toy mines, Disney DVD cases tossed around and the occasional dangerous and painful Lego. He finally makes his way in the bathroom and into the shower.
After washing away the odor of a hard days work, he catches himself in the mirror only to notice that 5 years of marriage does add 30 pounds (Scientifically proven fact!) . As he dries off he glances at the mirror again, not in any kind of physical shape. Thoughts of his imperfections are that much noticeable when forced to look into his own eyes, even through a fogged bathroom mirror. It outweighs his emotions of feeling cheated out of dinner with dessert. What does he see?
He sees a man with selfish expectations and lack of compassion. He can't bare to look at himself anymore, so he flees the mirror. His cell phone has become a physical extension of him, and since he can't take it into the shower he desperately seeks it out in the dim light, not wanting to miss what's happening in the world outside of his own home.
He unlocks it to see that he has a missed message from his wife. It's a video of his son singing his heart out. Surely, only a child of a much older age can pull that off. He smiles as he replays it over and over. As usual he searches for his charger, he finds it under his child's dry-erase board. It has numbers, letters and shapes drawn on it. Things you would see in a classroom. Teachings a mother would do, along with unwritten patience that only a mother could have. He smiles realizing that more than likely, his son learned something new that day. Only to be credited to the person that dedicates that time daily. His wife.
He catches sight of his son's character-themed dinner table, it has an empty plate on it. Evidence that a mother fed his child. The only way a caring mother could. Near the bed lay a clean towel and clean change of clothes. Undoubtedly, it looks like she passed up on a shower or didn't get a chance to take one. Nothing is more clear to him at that moment that it's probably been a long day for her as well (maybe twice as long). Mother positions don't come with 15 minute break times or a margarita happy hour lunch.
He wants to wake her up now and ravage her body into pieces with his aggressive drive. Romance? Non-existent in his artillery anymore. Luckily, for him, he is very much in love with his wife and her body, so him trying to bring the romance would be like riding a bike... It comes naturally. He lays beside her and takes her tightly in his arms. He kisses her neck and anywhere he can get his lips on. This moment means more to him than anything, even his own selfish expectations.
His lack of compassion is turned by the evidence of constant care, patience and love for someone they both both unconditionally. Their son. The sweat pants and mom bun are only war attire that comes with caring for his child. It only makes her more desirable and more beautiful than ever. Sleeping beside her is a privilege, he understands that now. Her love isn't earned, but given freely to him by her, so making sure she never feels taken for granted is his new goal and will remain apart of their relationship until his heart stops beating for her.