I took an involuntary trip into the past this morning. And it made me aware that my Cymbaltaless emotions are a bit raw. I need to avoid musical nutmeg graters for a while.
On the way to work today, the radio played I Want to Kiss You All Over. And the clock flipped right back to 1978. Remember? That song came out right after we were married. You were working first shift, and I worked 3rd shift at The Hospital From Hell. It was so hard to leave for work at bedtime, to never get to sleep with you. Every night I heard that song on the radio and cried all the way to work.
I so wanted to have the little, normal things like sleeping with my husband. But three months after we were married you were diagnosed with your second round of cancer, and little things like a having a normal life receded in importance. And nine months after that, I quit that awful job and we both worked second shift, which was about as close to normal as we ever got. By that time the song was gone, and so were any expectations of a regular life that I might have had.
We never did get to have our days of carefree sexual debauchery, did we? Between working different shifts, health problems, and 60-hour weeks, it never happened. But that's probably just another myth, like 9-5 jobs with weekends off. Normal people have children, and that's even more devastating to debauchery than shift work. And I don't feel like I missed out on anything except getting to grow old with you. The song is another myth, isn't it? It's not what real life is about. Hearing it, then and now, made me feel like I was missing something. But I had you, and that was always the only thing that mattered. And all that matters now is that I will be with you again someday. Until then, I'll avoid emotional nutmeg graters like that song.
Love you with all my heart,