The Future?

June 17, 2009
I listen quietly as he speaks, my mind floats elsewhere. Is this my future? Will my beloved's eyes look like this 30 years from now? Does he know I'm thinking of other things, as his words tell a story I've heard a dozen times now? I nod to acknowledge I understand what he is saying. I wonder. One day, when we are old, will I recall this day when my beloved is standing before me, needing me to hear the words he's already shared on multiple occasions yet doesn't remember?

He steps closer, as if I will hear him better. I have no choice but to turn away from the stove and give him my full attention. Is it because I'm making dinner that he think I don't care? In reality, I am hard at work to get dinner on the table by 5:00 p.m. He gets up at 4 in the morning. He would prefer to eat dinner at 4:30, but it won't be finished for another half an hour. With his interruptions, stopping to give him my full attention, does he realize dinner will be later? We haven't seen him for 2 days and it must seem like much longer to him and he doesn't recall that what he's telling me happened longer ago and he's already shared. It seems so very important to him, I stop dinner preparations to listen again.

Will I notice if and when this is my beloved? Will I remember his father, a sweet gentle man, who has begun to panic over the littlest things? Will I be patient with my beloved when whatever is on his mind becomes the most urgent and pressing issue in life? Will I treat his needs as such? Do I smile politely, and pretend to listen while attending to what I perceive to be his most important need? What is more important: listening or making sure he eats on time? If he doesn't eat on time, he begins feeling weak and sick.

Hopefully, when it's my beloved's time, I will have this down. I will better know how to balance. Plus, I won't have children living at home who also still need me. At least, I don't think I will.