The Husband starts his day when it is still dark outside. I almost never notice his initial rise but after a shower, he returns and the sounds of his routine bring a strange comfort. Like a soothing alarm, this morning dance helps me start my day. While I lay passed out in bed, he is painstakingly careful to proceed in near silence. There are slow zipper pulls and cautious replacing of hangers on metal closet rods. There is the evident tip-toe of leather soles on hardwood.
Every now and then, there is a crash. (Today it was coins escaping from the pocket of bent-over-to-tie-shoe pants.) These used to change my mood from dreamy to irritable. Now, these accidental noises simply bring a slow smile to my face. I know he doesn’t mean to wake me. He hates these sounds more than I.
As the number comes to a close, I feel the air shift and soon a soft hand on my cheek. With my eyes still closed I know what’s coming next; a soft, silent kiss, an I love you and goodbye.
It’s like waking from one dream into another.
My morning dance.
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