Jenga

Exactly two weeks ago today I almost lost my husband forever. Two weeks has taught me a lot about the importance of minutes and how fate stacks them together to form days, like a crucial game of Jenga that we don’t even know is being played. I’m so thankful that on that Wednesday Hunk’s pile didn’t topple.

I wish that I could say I’ve been diligent about starting the art of stopping before now, but the truth is I’m a “doer” and doers often don’t. Before all of this, stopping felt stagnant instead of celebratory. I can’t say that I properly paused to cherish how the little freckle next to his right eye punctuates each smile like an asterisk . Can’t say I even noticed that his voice actually gets lower when he’s excited, but now, I notice. Now, I cherish everything. Now, I wonder how many of us truly recognize the consequential insignificances that carve their notch into our life lines— the ones that so quickly and clearly separate both moments and memories into “before”s and “after”s.

I try to pinpoint the moment that I fell in love with Hunk. Could it have been on our first date, when he walked me to my car and I watched all 6'6" of him break into a full-body smile in my rearview mirror as he nearly skipped away? Was it weeks later, when I had casually mentioned breaking my vacuum in conversation and, dropping me off after a date, he not only opened my door but also his trunk — where he’d thoughtfully purchased me a brand new vacuum (and even in my favorite color)? Maybe it was something more consistent but subtle, like the way he keeps his winter coat in his car year round because he remembers that I don’t like the sticky hot of leather seats in the summer. It was probably none of those times, but all of those times. Maybe we don’t fall in love. Maybe we grow in it. Daily.

Today I remind myself that “commitment” and “endurance” are separate words and separate actions, but the whole of life requires the belief in and practice of both. And people like Hunk make choosing each easy. But if ambition and aspiration always kept an even pace there would be less grit for the grind, and we all know a little pressure can create some truly beautiful things — just ask my wedding ring.