Story by Jennifer Kish
I stood in the doorway of a restaurant and waited as a precious lady shuffled toward me. She got all the way to the door and came to a stop. With her husband patiently holding her arm she began to repeatedly attempt to step but her foot just wouldn’t cooperate with her mind. She finally made it through and shuffled to the next door. The previous scenario repeated again when she reached the next doorway. I stood holding the door, waiting for her to come through. Her husband looked up at me and sweetly said “she does great until she gets to a doorway; it’s Parkinson’s and it’s hard.” He smiled at me and turned his attention back to his wife. He gently encouraged her to take the next step and finally she did.
I studied the two of them as they walked away from me. I wondered about their life together. I considered the ups and downs and wondered if she’d ever complained about his socks on the floor and if he’d ever snapped back about her nagging. I wondered if they’d spent a lifetime together, it seemed they had.
I began to reflect on my own marriage as my husband and I move closer to our 30’s. Okay, fine our mid 30’s. I wonder if I nag about the things that don’t even matter.
Perhaps these years where we find ourselves easily passing from doorway to doorway shouldn’t be spent fussing about empty soda cans or who forgot to pay the light bill. (Spoiler alert: it was me. It’s always me.) Maybe it’s not so important that he takes his dishes to the sink or that he cleans the bathroom counter after he shaves his beard. Maybe, just maybe, we should peek into the future and see what really matters.
Because when the days are many and the years are full, the only thing that will matter is if we can help each other make it through the doorways.
Tonight, I think I’ll just pick up those socks and wipe down that sink. Then I will thank God for the man that sleeps next to me.
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