We Split the Work

- a snapshot of our marriage

 

We split the shake.

We split the fries.

We split the work.

We compromised.

In Alaska, I ordered a grubstake.

He carried grocery cases.

He was a carpenter.

I was a baker.

He cut down trees for our home,

I cut kindling for our steam.

I had our baby.

He ensured we had running water to wash diapers.

 I packed and labeled boxes.

He loaded them into a shipping container.

We split the shake.

We split the fries.

We split the work.

We compromised.

He started his business in Oregon.

I stayed home with the young ones.

He built our home.

I cooked our meals.

He wrestled with our boys.

I baked cookies for them.

He built and remodeled.

I billed his clients and paid our bills.

He loaded up a tackle box.

I loaded up a food box.

We split the shake.

We split the fries.

We split the work.

We compromised.

I was a den mother.

He was a scout leader.

I found our downtown office.

He remodeled it.

He remodeled our home.

I bought new furniture.

He hired new employees.

I reviewed our finances.

I bought plane tickets.

He carried scuba gear.

We split the shake.

We split the fries.

We split the work,

We compromised.

I retired first.

He retired second.

He cut grass.

I planted flowers.

He looked at destinations.

I reserved cruises.

He got sick first.

Tribute to Tahsis

-   our last dog

How do you pronounce her name?

Always the question.

T ..ah  sis I would say.

My husband's best black lab.

Her shiny, soft coat she carefully polished with her pink tongue.

She, our best-looking dog with classic proportions,

Her vet removed one toe Tahsis broke as a puppy while jumping from a garage shelf.

She knew her name but sometimes conveniently forgot it!

And she displayed unusual discernment of our needs.

As a puppy, she only chewed,

 on sticks, not our gloves or shoes.

She had a fine nose for hunting and retrieving,

but not for chasing ducks on our pond.

The only time she chased a deer was when a buck charged us in a campground.

She strategically placed herself between me and a scamming salesman.

She taught herself to carefully retrieve and repeatedly dropped

 the ball right in front of my walker.

As she tilted her head, she followed me with knowing eyes.

Dutifully she hiked for hours until her body was riddled with pain.

Then she searched my eyes for respite, which, sadly, I couldn't give her.

One Spring Afternoon in 2017

Outside the sliding glass door,

we sat side by side

in two tan  plastic  chairs  with  faded blue cushions,

on the painted  brick-red  cedar deck.

He wore a gray flannel shirt like he'd worn

years ago building this deck.

His handsomely silhouetted  face  was now rounded

like an overinflated tire from the treatments.

We sat on the deck this last time.

The afternoon  finally warm

 that spring day

after a long sick winter of rain and gray.

We sat in the sun.

We didn't speak.

There was no need.

We just held hands.

Rufus humming birds raced about,

chasing one another,

in their haste to claim the feeder as their own.

As we had raced about for forty years.

A few early purple pansies

 in a painted blue planter,

 leaned their faces

 as if searching for a succulent summer sun.

We sat in the sun.

We didn't speak.

There was no need.

We just held hands.