Our wedding day was gray and gloomy and cold, the last day of February. And then it rained. Boy howdy, did it rain! Sheets. Buckets. Rivers. And the wind! The bridal party was delayed leaving my mom and dad's place because the front walkway was submerged below inches of water, as was the car park. Finally, unable to hold off any longer lest the bridegroom change his mind while waiting interminably for the bride to show up at the church, my mom wrapped my gown in layers and layers of dry cleaning bags. We waded out into the tempest to the waiting vehicle, my father holding an umbrella over me to protect my hair and makeup and the beautiful gown I was carrying in my arms. The gown I had designed and my mother had lovingly made for me. He mostly succeeded.
|Weren't we cute?|
To celebrate our anniversary, we generally go out to dinner. This year was no exception. He used to pick the restaurant, but now that's up to me. And I love sushi. I should have known this wasn't the best idea for him at dinner time, but we'd had Japanese food at lunch not long ago with no issues. Our day had been going really well, and it just never occurred to me that this wouldn't be a good plan. But even though we are not strangers to this restaurant, everything about it was disorienting and confusing for my husband.
|And a few days later,|
here he is using a couple
of stir sticks as chopsticks
to eat the jelly at a restaurant.
I felt so bad. He didn't really enjoy the delicious food, because it was too complicated for him. So many things were in the little sections of the bento tray, a confusion of overlapping colors and shapes and reasons for being. The green of the salad touched the green of the wasabi in the next little section. I quickly removed that from his tray, lest he pop the whole thing in his mouth with distressing effect. The dark sauce for dipping the tempura vegetables was in a dark little bowl, the miso soup was in a small bowl of the same color, the tea was in a cup with no handle. And also the same color.
I removed items from his tray and separated the other foods to make it easier for him to distinguish between them, and I encouraged him to eat this and that, pointing with my chopsticks. But he didn't seem to really comprehend my meaning. That's happening a lot these days. Is he not hearing me, or is he not tracking with me? It's hard to say. He did finish the meal, more with relief than with any real joy. It was disappointing.
Happy anniversary anyway, Baby. I'm sorry the dinner wasn't what I'd hoped, but I'm glad we were able to celebrate one more year together. We showed 'em, didn't we?