Friday, I scooted down to Clarion to bake bread with Cara, to celebrate her 22nd birthday, belatedly.
Saturday, I returned home, and I was glad to be pulling in the driveway. I walked in the house calling, "I'm home," and I heard Tim's voice from the back of the house.
He came up and gave me a hug, and I hugged him back, but I'm always jangly after a long drive. I said, "So, have you eaten?" and he said, "No," and I headed for the cupboard.
Tim said, "You don't miss me anymore."
Surprised, I stopped.
"I do," I said. "I have been missing you for a long time. Between school and work, it just never seems like we have enough time together, and when we do...we seem to be talking about projects, or what needs doing next, or your back. My mom died, and the holidays. It's been so busy, but I do miss you. I thought I was the only lonely one."
I felt so badly about that. I still do. There are times in a marriage when you are so close that you can read each other's thoughts, but apparently, we have drifted. Usually, it is me, pleading for closeness and conversation, but this time, it was him, saying softly, "I just don't feel like you miss me."
This time it is me who has to step forward, and reach for my husband, hold him close. This time it is my turn to prove it, to make him feel beloved, once again.