Things that I miss #726 – the conversations.
I have many conversations throughout any given day with a variety of people. I’m not sequestered, although I sometimes make myself feel that way.
There are conversations I have with my adult kids. I care about them and love them deeply so I could listen to every detail of their entire week. I want to know what classes James signed up for this semester and how his new manager at work treats him, if he’s gotten a raise, and what he’s done to earn it—how his sweet and smart girlfriend is, and if they are treating each other well. I want to hear from Sean what the latest issue of Broadside includes and what pieces she has lined up on the horizon. I want to find out the motivations behind her latest writings and what the story is around the most recent song she wrote.
There are conversations with my parents who never slow down. I talk to my father about what shows and parties he’s covering, his latest play, and where our next happy hour meetup will be. Mom and I talk about her dogs and the books she’s reading.
Then there are conversations with family and friends where we catch up and share advice. We talk about our kids and share past experiences. They offer me a shoulder to cry on, and sometimes I do. They spend a lot of their energy propping me up and I accept.
But, there’s a different kind of conversation a person has with a spouse. It spans a much wider range of topics. There are the most mundane of subjects that range from did you water the dogwood? to I bought you a new toothbrush, to wow, check out this electric bill…flight schedule…horrible potato salad. None of these topics would ever be discussed with anyone but a spouse. If you tried, it would likely be one of the last conversations with that person as they would be bored out of their mind.
Then, there are the more intimate conversations. I’m not sure how to explain them here, but most of you know what I mean. Sometimes they are audible, sometimes physical. How we’d like to grow old together and what that looks like in our imaginations. How we want to handle things if we don’t get to grow old together. How we like to be treated by the other. Stories about what we were like before we ever met. The shared compliments—“you look beautiful Principessa,” and “Hi there handsome.” The dreams of places you want to travel to together—places you imagine living. How he played beautifully that night.
Finally, there are the unspoken, yet eloquent conversations. The kiss on my cheek as I pass through the living room. The hug in the morning before he gets out of bed. The grins in the hallway as we pass each other. The glances from the stage that tell me he is having the time of his life up there.
I miss those conversations. All the talking in the world just can’t replace them.