A few weeks ago, my husband discovered that one of his CDs was missing. He hadn’t listened to it in awhile, but despite the fact that he has dozens and dozens of CDs, and over 1,000 record albums, and maybe 50 cassette tapes, he noticed that the CD was gone.
This led him to spend a lot of time wondering who had borrowed it, and how he could get it back. It also prompted him to think about other things he had lent out, and where they were, and how he could get them back.
Fast forward to New Year’s Day. We have a family tradition that at dinner on New Year’s Day, we take turns going around the table and sharing our resolutions. L., who is usually good for coming up with some pretty poetic and mind-blowing resolutions said, with a facetious look at all of us, that this year he “wants to spend more time on the computer.”
T.’s resolutions seemed to be all about gymnastics. She wants to be able to do a round-off, a cartwheel, and the splits. My resolution…well, I’ll get to that in a moment.
Scott’s resolution was simple: to make an effort, in 2012, to get back what he deserves.
Then we had dinner, and everything was chaotic, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the wording of my husband’s resolution. What had he meant? Did he feel he wasn’t getting what he deserved in life? Had I failed him somehow? How could I not have noticed? I thought back to the day before, when I’d been overcome with crabbiness about a number of things. Was he thinking he deserved an un-crabby wife? Was this how mid-life crises happened? I flip-flopped between feeling alarmed about my easy-going husband’s state of mind, and self-righteously angry that he felt he wasn’t getting what he deserved. Wait, I thought, maybe I need to get back what I deserve? What about me?