A pot of water boiled on the burner behind my husband, as he leaned against the stove, pulling my face into his sweatshirt. This story does not end with seared human flesh, so relax, gentle reader.
He hugged me to him for a long time, hard.
Finally, I managed to choke out, through thick tonsils, “I really love the hug. But I’m having trouble breathing even when my air passages aren’t obstructed by a hoodie. Let me come up for a gasp.”
I reared back, gulped in some oxygen, and nuzzled back in for the hug.
After a minute, he took my hands off the sweatshirt covering his back and tucked them underneath, so they touched his skin.
“That’s never bad,” Groom pointed out.
“Brave man. You’re not very discerning about who touches your unclothed bits. You have no idea where these hands have been. But I like your skin.”
We were quiet for a minute. The water burbled behind us.
“I’m really sorry you’ve felt so pooky for so long this week,” he said into my greasy hair.
“I’m really sorry I haven’t showered for two days,” I responded. “And thanks. This tonsil stuff has been suck slathered onto a crud cracker.”
“I’d do anything to help you feel better,” he said, hugging me tighter, cutting off any hope of breaf to my body.
Breaking away for a few more gasps of air, I pointed out, “You let me watch America’s Test Kitchen and brought me omelets and espresso milkshakes in bed. You made me feel twelve kinds of better.”
“Well,” he noted, “I like you.”
“I like me, too.”
Then he turned to the pot of water and poured in the macaroni that he would bring to me, minutes later, after I’d crawled back into the bed. While I ate the noodles, wincing with every swallow, he joined me under the covers and stroked my calf with his foot.
Nine years ago today, my husband literally was The Groom. I was the other one. As we stood up in front of 120 friends and family, it was unseasonably warm. That Santana song featuring Rob Whatzhisfutz was the #1 song in the U.S.. I cried a lot during the ceremony, and not just because that Santana song featuring Rob Whatzhisfutz was the #1 song in the U.S..
I’d never actually dreamed of being a bride. However, I had dreamed of finding a One True Love.
It’s simple to feel that I’ve found such a thing when we’re both in perfect health; it’s unquestionable that I’ve found it when one of us is suffering an illness.
I am constantly awestruck that I have something to believe in.
I was a bride married to amazement
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms
These banners, painted by my mother-in-law, were the backdrop to our vows.