The Last Day
I have to admit, when it comes to my Hunky, I'm selfish. He's smart and funny and a good kisser and not too hard on the old eyes, either. The whole package really. Technically we've had all week alone together. I say technically because it seems as though exactly one billion other things have competed for his attention this week. Weddings, parties, barbecues, rehearsals, graduations, not to mention doing the job of two people now have all made for many moments of biting my tongue, exerting immense self control, and chanting "let it go, let it go, let it go." Until suddenly, I find it's Sunday the last day of just us for awhile, a fact that makes me very sad.
Because, as I already said, I'm selfish.
What makes it difficult, sometimes, is knowing that when he has a choice, he will always choose his family first. Always. But there are seasons where the honest-to-goodness truth is, he really doesn't have a choice. Which means my choice is to act rationally or turn into some sort of shrewish, shrieking harpy and make everyone miserable.
I don't so much enjoy myself when I get that way, and I know no one else enjoys me that way. The only person to take it up with is God, Himself. We've been there before; it don't end pretty.
So God and I will take another turn at this dying to selfishness. We'll dig a little deeper, and I'll probably drag my feet half the time. I'll miss Hunky's face, his presence, his voice, and his crinkly eye smile. I'll remind myself that all our time is borrowed time to begin with so it isn't as though I have any right to expect it to all be focused on me, me, me, me, and more me.
But I think where the Hunky is concerned I'm always going to be a bit selfish. It's a vice I intend to spend the rest of my life battling.
As for the rest of today, I think I shall wallow in it. Right after Hunky gets up from his nap.