Just Me and Some Strawberries

I had dinner with my mother last night, and she asked me if I was nervous with Joe out of town. The question seemed odd to me.  But then she told me that when she was growing up my grandmother was always very anxious when my grandfather traveled, and my grandmother would ask my mom to sleep in her room when he was gone. Until my mom got in to high school and said, um, no, too old for that. My grandmother used to spend the night at our house when I was a little girl for the same reason. I mostly remember running to wake her up, my brother and I climbing all over her in the morning, trying not to scrape our legs on the sides of the pull-out couch. My grandmother married young, moved right out of her parent's house into her own house, and probably was rarely alone. She was a little skittish.  Maybe it's a generational thing.  Maybe I'm just stubbornly independent. But I can't image feeling nervous with my husband out of town.  I feel a lot of things, but nervous isn't one of them.

Joe and I have been together for a long time. More than twelve years and married nearly nine. And while I miss him when he's out of town for a few days, I take it as a bit of a challenge to not just laze around, but to force myself to do things alone. Not because I mind doing things alone, I'm just used to having a partner to share my time with. It is an unfamiliar feeling to run around town by myself on the weekends. I went to the City Market this morning to buy some produce, just browse around and enjoy the weather, people watch and maybe pick up some plants.

 

It felt strange to be there alone. I kept wanting to turn to Joe and laugh about the goofy hippie woman with daisies woven in her hair, or share a taste of this amazing grainy bread, or discuss which salad greens he preferred, should we grow basil and cilantro this summer? But it was just me. And after about twenty minutes of wandering around, chatting with vendors, tasting some succulent berries and enjoying the sun on my face, I settled in to myself.  These five short days will fly by. And Tuesday we will both have stories to tell and photos to share, and catch up with each other in minutes. Sliding right back to the familiar, warm, funny, loving, constant that we are with each other.