Threads

In the last few days, Art drove the car. I almost had two accidents from inattentiveness. He went to Apple Pan for burgers, I napped. He disciplined the kids, I sat numbly by, not caring. He finished a whole protein drink, I finished a bottle of chardonnay. I hang from a frayed thread, he hangs from 6 or 7 of them.

We will change places this week as chemo progresses, although I don’t know that my thread ratio will go up. He will nap, I will discipline. He will focus in on himself, I will let him go. He will feel hopeless and I will remind him of the beauty around us.

My threads come unwound and with his skilled hands he winds them back together. His threads unravel and with equal dexterity I rewind them. Thus, we manage to stay bound together.

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