Today is my husband’s birthday, and I must confess to feeling guilty about my absence on Courtney’s special day. Yes, I leave him the requisite Hallmark card and buy him a gift, but I think in the last ten years, I may have been home 8 times on his birthday.
Today I am in Budapest. Last year, I was in Poland. The year before that I was in Poland again. In other years, I have attended a yearly teacher’s conference that invariably falls on his birthday week.
I always ask if it’s okay that I miss his birthday, and he always says, “of course.” As ever, he supports my professional and personal interests even if it means that I can’t be with him on the one day that a person should be surrounded by loving family and friends. This year, our close friends are also out of the country and our daughter lives many, many miles away. So he will be even more alone than usual.
He won’t be lonely, though. My husband knows how to nurture himself by getting some “quiet time,” doing yoga, watching Seinfeld re-runs, and going out with our foreign exchange student for ice cream. He’ll be perfectly fine doing that, too. He’ll even tell me, after reading this blog, “Don’t worry about me.” And he’ll mean it.
Thanks, Bear, for giving me the space that I need. It’s part of your gift to me. And my gift to you, this year, (in addition to the card that’s on the kitchen counter and the gift that should be delivered to the door) and every year, is to love you for the special husband and man that you are.
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