As usual, I'm writing away when the grinding of the garage door signals Will's return. Though I'd asked to accompany him, his decision to go on his own had been accepted respectfully.
With one ear cocked in readiness to welcome my husband home, my mind is not remotely immersed in 'the zone'. In fact, so eager do I feel to hear what the urologist had to say that without so much as pushing save, my body spins out of my chair like a top. And after flying through our office and laundry room, barely stopping long enough to fling open our back door, I find myself standing between Will's car and mine before my husband, looking like the poster boy of good health, has had time to open his door. As you can imagine, I'm rarely accused of lacking in animated anticipation, whether news be good or bad.
In fact speaking from a place of introspection as often as has become my habit, you'd think that those who assume to know the sum of my traits would expect the unexpected from a spirit that proves as complex as mine ...
On the other hand, most everyone leads such a busy life as to focus ( and rightly so), upon juggling personal goals with achieving unmet needs, and with that insight concerning human nature waving in the breeze, you'd think we'd embrace the common sense to douse flaming indignation, on the spot, each time pessimistic attitudes darken our best intentions to resolve long-standing conflicts in mutually respectful ways ... unfortunately, we've not. All too often, tension, crackling through the air, awakens the inner beast, and rather than massaging each other's worries with soothing balms of compassion, we resort to snapping off each other's aching heads. Good reason to practice 'time-out-on-the-spot.
So anyway back in the garage, I reach up to welcome my husband with an affectionate kiss while readying my mind to play twenty questions for this reason: If, on a scale of one to ten, your loquacious friend Annie is a twenty when airing informative details, I know Will to be a man who's saving his words in wait for mine to dry up, as mentioned in my very first post. Therefore, upon engaging in conversation with Will, my mind readies itself for this game of twenty questions, and to this end, experience suggests that I can minimize frustration on both sides by mustering a whale of patience each time my husband offers an answer, which wastes nary a word.
Luckily, right before irritation causes muscle memory to tense up, the 'sageful' spirit of my faithful friend whispers words of wisdom into my ear. Then quick as a flash, the wide berth of Socrates' wing span soars high into the sky above our small, small world in search of countless others, who like me, must muster high levels of patience in hopes of transforming temper into tenderness ...repeatedly ... And BTW, though I perceive this sage to be my guardian angel, you'll see no halo above my friend's head, because he, who implores us to think deep in hopes of judging others less harshly, does not elevate his behavior above yours or mine; thus, no righteous saint is he.
Upon cautioning myself to pull back on my reins and employ listening skills while Will doles out bits and pieces of knowledge, I feel grateful for consciously taming my tension by asking questions with attention to TLC, because clearly, Will's answers offer us both sound reason to worry …
With one ear cocked in readiness to welcome my husband home, my mind is not remotely immersed in 'the zone'. In fact, so eager do I feel to hear what the urologist had to say that without so much as pushing save, my body spins out of my chair like a top. And after flying through our office and laundry room, barely stopping long enough to fling open our back door, I find myself standing between Will's car and mine before my husband, looking like the poster boy of good health, has had time to open his door. As you can imagine, I'm rarely accused of lacking in animated anticipation, whether news be good or bad.
In fact speaking from a place of introspection as often as has become my habit, you'd think that those who assume to know the sum of my traits would expect the unexpected from a spirit that proves as complex as mine ...
On the other hand, most everyone leads such a busy life as to focus ( and rightly so), upon juggling personal goals with achieving unmet needs, and with that insight concerning human nature waving in the breeze, you'd think we'd embrace the common sense to douse flaming indignation, on the spot, each time pessimistic attitudes darken our best intentions to resolve long-standing conflicts in mutually respectful ways ... unfortunately, we've not. All too often, tension, crackling through the air, awakens the inner beast, and rather than massaging each other's worries with soothing balms of compassion, we resort to snapping off each other's aching heads. Good reason to practice 'time-out-on-the-spot.
So anyway back in the garage, I reach up to welcome my husband with an affectionate kiss while readying my mind to play twenty questions for this reason: If, on a scale of one to ten, your loquacious friend Annie is a twenty when airing informative details, I know Will to be a man who's saving his words in wait for mine to dry up, as mentioned in my very first post. Therefore, upon engaging in conversation with Will, my mind readies itself for this game of twenty questions, and to this end, experience suggests that I can minimize frustration on both sides by mustering a whale of patience each time my husband offers an answer, which wastes nary a word.
Luckily, right before irritation causes muscle memory to tense up, the 'sageful' spirit of my faithful friend whispers words of wisdom into my ear. Then quick as a flash, the wide berth of Socrates' wing span soars high into the sky above our small, small world in search of countless others, who like me, must muster high levels of patience in hopes of transforming temper into tenderness ...repeatedly ... And BTW, though I perceive this sage to be my guardian angel, you'll see no halo above my friend's head, because he, who implores us to think deep in hopes of judging others less harshly, does not elevate his behavior above yours or mine; thus, no righteous saint is he.
Upon cautioning myself to pull back on my reins and employ listening skills while Will doles out bits and pieces of knowledge, I feel grateful for consciously taming my tension by asking questions with attention to TLC, because clearly, Will's answers offer us both sound reason to worry …
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