We stole away for the weekend, just the two of us. The last two years of work travels and graduate school and general Swiss confusion falling away with every turn of the train wheels. Before we left, I told him I had a good, long think. I pulled up the covers on every quiet corner of my heart and made sure there wasn’t anything lurking there, anything that might rise to the surface and ruin an otherwise lovely day. He replied with an ‘Oh, good’, bearing just a hint of sarcasm. There have been a few unfortunate incidents in which my husband believes he is taking me away for rest and relaxation, and I view it as more of a therapy session. Minus the level headed therapist and unbiased opinions.
He asked me if I had any expectations; what I needed out of our time together. I didn’t hesitate saying, ‘I just want you’. And so we had each other, hand in hand, by the lake, in the sun. We sat on a green metal bench and stared across at the mountains reflecting in the water. I squinted my eyes really tight and imagined I could see our future.
We could be here or there. With a lake and some handholding. The details were fuzzy, but I could see the shape of the future. Him and me, sitting on a bench, dreaming together through gray hair and knotty hands and grown children and grand babies. Maybe there will even be a room with a view.
It was altogether wonderful. As we sat across from each other on the way home, the soft rumble of train wheels underneath and the shadow of white capped peaks above, I knew that I’d gotten exactly what I asked for, and then some.
No therapist required.