Remember that thrill you felt as a kid when your parents announced they were going out of town for the weekend? You tried to act calm – “Oh? Where are you going? When exactly will you be back?” Because inside, you were already planning the invitation list, the snacks, and the glorious freedom.
I still experience that same feeling when my husband announces he’s going out of town.
In my last blog, I mentioned that my husband was coming home from his weeklong fishing trip. The week went fast, but I remember when he took off early last Saturday morning with his sons – the feeling I had was no different than the feeling I had at age fifteen or sixteen when Mom and Dad headed out the door.
OMG… freedom!
I can eat what I want.
I can go anywhere I want.
I can come home whenever I want.
And now here I am in my 60’s and the list hasn’t changed much. My husband leaves for a week and suddenly I’m thinking the same thing: Wow… I can eat anything I want. I can do anything I want.
What is wrong with me? It’s not as if I can’t eat what I want now. It’s not like I can’t go where I want at any time now.
There’s absolutely nothing wrong with me. And I know I’m not the only woman who feels this way.
Women need time alone. Women need a vacation from being the housekeeper, the laundress, the finder of lost socks, the clearer of toothpaste streaks, the answerer of “What’s for supper?”
It doesn’t mean we don’t love our husbands.
It doesn’t mean we don’t enjoy their company.
It simply means we all need time where we don’t have to answer to anyone, repeat ourselves to a selective listener, or pick up after anybody. Hell, I have a hard enough time picking up after myself. We need time where we get to just… be ourselves.
This week I had an appointment every single day. That meant showering, doing my hair, putting on a little makeup, finding nicer clothes to wear. Inside, I was screaming:
My husband is gone! I need a day I can wear my favorite sweatshirt, skip the hair and makeup and binge watch Netflix if that’s what I want to do.
Those lazy days are rare. Most of the time, there’s somewhere I need to be, something I need to do, or someone counting on me to show up.
So, what did I do?
I created a day. I rescheduled an appointment or two and made a day just for me – nowhere I had to be. I even pulled the shades so if somebody came up the driveway, they couldn’t peek in and see me on the couch. I was bound and determined to have a day where I could do absolutely nothing except what I wanted to do and nobody knew.
And I loved every second of it.
I try to figure out why I feel the way I do because in all honesty, my husband couldn’t care less if I’ve been watching Netflix all day. Plus, he spends a great deal of his time down in his man-cave.
So what is it?
Maybe it’s because my ex used to walk in and comment, “Good grief, you’re always on your computer.” Those things stay with a person. He made me feel guilty – and guilt has a long shelf life.
Not too long ago, I was talking to a woman who said she thought all married couples should live in duplexes. I laughed. Then she said, “No, really. Think about it – one person on each side, under the same roof, but you have a wall between you. You can be together when you wanted and then you could… go home… right next door.” We got a good laugh out of it, but is it really so absurd?
Love with a little breathing room. Togetherness with a door you can close when together is not where you want to be.
The Countdown
I really am looking forward to my husband coming home. I do miss not having an adult to converse with, but I’m not looking forward to the explosion of fishing paraphernalia that will appear the moment he walks through the door. He’ll be good at putting his fishing clothes in the laundry room, but the freedom clock will have ticked down to its final second.
It’s the same feeling I had at sixteen, watching the minutes disappear before Mom and Dad returned. That tiny bittersweet moment where you know your freedom is about to end and life is about to get back to normal. Although back then, you were more concerned about making sure you left no signs of the party you had the night before.
In all actuality…
That’s love. That’s marriage. That’s being human.
We treasure the people we share our lives with… and we treasure the quiet pockets where we get to be entirely ourselves. We really do need to be grateful for the busyness – the appointments on our calendars, the places we’re expected to show up – because they remind us we’re still alive, still needed, still part of something.
But we appreciate even more the days when the calendar is blank, the house is quiet, and the only person we have to answer to is ourselves. Those days feel like tiny miracles… the kind you don’t realize you’re starving for until one finally shows up.
And the bright spot?
I’ll have fresh walleye to eat and my husband will have made memories with his boys – as it was a father/son/son-in-law fishing trip. And for that, I’m grateful.
Grab your favorite cocktail, it’s time for a toast:
Here’s to husbands who travel, wives who exhale, fishing trips that restore their souls and lazy days spent home alone that restore ours.
Here’s to the glorious week where the bed is all ours, the shades stay pulled, the sweatshirt stays on, and Netflix politely asks if we’re still watching.
Here’s to fresh walleye, quiet houses, and the rare magical day where we don’t have to shower, speak, or pick up a single sock.
And here’s to the moment they walk back through the door, trailing fishing paraphernalia like it was confetti, reminding us why freedom is sweet… and why love is sweeter.
Cheers to marriage, memories, and the next fishing trip being scheduled soon enough to keep the whole system running smoothly.
