It was at Sam’s, of all places.

It gave me this Helen Keller in the midst of 42-gallon tubs of peanut butter feeling.

It was very profound.

Being in a wheelchair puts you at a constant height where you see and experience all sorts of things. (Let’s just say “camel-toe” has a whole new meaning)

I’m shorter than I used to be.

I see things that might go unnoticed by others.

I’ve got my girls and Jackie with me, helping me feed the small country that is called A TEENAGE BOY, when I see it.

My profound moment.

Wearing sweat pants and sensible shoes.

She was very heavy.  He was very bald with a beer belly.

They were holding hands and you could feel the affection that radiated from them.

She said something that made him laugh and they they both cracked up like kids.

I’m betting she wasn’t that overweight when they got married.

Chances are, he didn’t have the paunch or hairline when they were newlyweds.

The changes were gradual, not sudden, but change them time did.

IT DIDN’T MATTER.

Yeah, I don’t know squat about their relationship, but I like to think that whatever changes they went through were superficial.

I do know my relationship.

I know what we’ve been through and this is hard, but not the hardest.

We didn’t make it this far to give up now.

I can’t say this new outlook will suddenly make every insecurity go away.

I WILL do my damnedest to remember that couple at Sam’s.

The way they held hands.

The love they shared.

The love WE share.

Remembering that all the changes will be superficial someday.

Pete said this other day when we were talking about a lot of things that needed SOMETHING.

I have this site and Aiming Low that I’m building up.

25 writers I love talking to each day.

We’re organizing events at BlogHer and TypeAParent.

The freelance thing I do.

I’m building another site with Faiqa and Janet.

There’s meetings to build up the business-side of things.

I’m always mom to the three most fascinating people EVER.

I’m married to the one guy who makes a world with no coffee worth….well….no one could make THAT work, but he IS pretty cool.

Dr Pain.

Electrifying myself.

Making things that don’t want to still have to.

Then there’s the book I agreed to write.

Speaking at conferences and travel.

Sometimes I miss those naps. And stay up too late. Try to squeeze a few more minutes into my day.

And I’m tired.

I have to remind myself that my body can’t take constant pressure.

It can’t handle the reckless speed I used to throw myself into everything.

I have to be more careful.

I have to be selfish.

It starts with naps.

I will own them again.

Hospital.  Nursing home.  Rehab hospital.

I would wait to hear his voice.

I could hang on all day while I waited for his hug.

He would bring my only reason to smile sometimes.

Maybe it was the kids.

Maybe it was a joke.

He has always been the one to encourage me when the day felt heavy.

As I have taken more and more of myself back he has pushed me harder each step.

He has been there for my moments of tears.

I turn to him when I need to celebrate.

No one can make me laugh like he does. No one ever has.

We have been through things that shatter most marriages.  Every day one of us should leave.

Peter and I have a deal whoever leaves first has to take the bills.

We’ll be together forever.

You might think I’m exaggerating, but you haven’t seen those shiny eyes bearing down on you like it might be your last day.

EVER.

E-V-E-R.

So, a few months ago we got a device that would help us work muscles that don’t work on their own.  It was called E-Stim…for Electrical Stimulation.  It would electrocute muscle groups to help them remember how to move.

The only word my husband heard was: electrocute.

My leg have moved funny.  Let’s electrocute them!

My fingers started stirring.  Let’s electrocute them!

My arm has is reaching new heights.  Let’s electrocute it!

Orphans have saved baby seals.  Let’s electrocute them!!!

You get the picture.

Today, we went to our acupuncturist and I didn’t feel good enough for a session.  My husband did and I encouraged him to keep his appointment.

Halfway through the session I asked my dearly beloved a favor.

“Can I stab you with a needle?”

“NO!”

“Please?”

“NO!”

“Why not?”

“Why would I let you stick more needles in me?”

“So, you’ll quit asking me if you can electrocute me all the time.”

“But I do it with your best intentions in mind.”

“Obviously I do too. Let me stab you once and you’ll see.”

This went on for a little while.

He never let me stab him.

Clearly, he doesn’t value my love.