What do I mean by Short Fuse?
I'm not sure I want to say. Yesterday I couldn't
think of the phrase. Today it tickled me awake.
For a long time, most of my adult life,
it's been there simmering in the back of my heart --
a threat to peace and quietude.
When I was a child, it waited behind
each door I opened in our house. Great Balls of Fire --
hovering over daily life like
Jerry Lee Lewis about to leap on stage.
Sometimes it seeps into my life here --
in the amount of time it takes me
to become angry at my husband when he says
something in a tone I don't like.
And how quickly I forget I can get the
same haughty tone in my voice, yet dismiss
it as just me being me.
What about the distance that it creates between us?
Or how quickly I can travel from good mood to
to hateful.
Yet, as I travel deeper into our marriage I glimpse something surprisingly
hopeful. It's that these days when I pass from good will to glower
how fast I can return to stasis.
He can too. Is the reason the more
good times we share together, the less willing we are to spoil
what lies ahead?
Coming from a family that can nurture grudges like
African violets, this is a revelation about relationships.
It's nice to know that this sweet state is attainable
despite not knowing it existed.
I always believed the deepest connection one could
have with another was during sex. Was I wrong?
Maybe aging hormones are a precursor
to true contentment.
I am one of the lucky ones. I love my husband.
And our apartment (if I forget about the elevator)
is a a fifth floor walk-up. Lately, we've started taking
the stairs.
Walking five flights is not on a short list of what
I like to do. Yet, as I pant my way up, I wonder
what other loving miracles there are to discover --
if we manage to stretch the next 20 or so more years
together to 30?
