Wag More, Bark Less

There’s a guy, probably retired, a little older than me, I think, who walks his dog past my house every morning around 11:15.  He carriers the de riguer plastic poop bag.  The dog, a beagle mix, is on the end of a red leash.  The man takes it slow.  So does the dog. 

The dog has his reasons – he only has three legs.  “Walk” is a generous term for his mobility – it’s more of a step-hop, step-hop.  Interestingly, the most motion from the entire ensemble comes from his wagging tale.  The man moves at the exact speed that keeps the tail wagging.

I watch this out of the window of my home office.  I, too, am retired, after working on-and-off in the automotive industry for 42 years.  The home office is a euphemism for taking it slow.  I’ve got a few projects – sometimes I feel that I don’t have enough work and sometimes I feel like I’ve got too much.  My blushing Bride of 7+ years is still working downtown, running a department that is “mission-critical” to her company’s success.  She has four -- okay, three-and-a-half -- more years until she can retire.  She is engaged, energized, but as we age, I've found, the engagement and energization takes its toll.  So at the end of each day, she takes it slow, too. 

Since we’ve each been in the maelstrom of Corporate America most of our respective careers, we recognized the need to re-negotiate what "one-spouse-retired-and-one-spouse-not" was going to look like.  The one thing we want to avoid is devolving into different orbits – something that couples struggle with every day anyway.  In our situation, we’re both mindful of the fact that one person going off to the salt mines every day, while the other sleeps in, cruises the cafes, has lunch with friends and naps in the afternoon is a recipe for resentment.  And resentment is the retro-rocket that will land you in differing orbits every time.

Since we’ve both experienced, let’s say “less than ideal” relationships, we’ve resolved to communicate What We Need.  Our motto is “nothing under the rug.”  A good motto, I think.  And, after two years of this New Arrangement, I think we’ve gotten into a reasonable routine.  Every morning, I get up with my Bride at 5:30 and fix our breakfast while she showers and gets ready for work.  We enjoy breakfast together, watch the morning news, chat about anything and everything (this morning’s conversation ranged from a news story about the “Manliest City in America” to our Alaska daughter’s pregnancy to the spiciness of the jalapeños we just bought at the Farmer’s Market).  We laugh together, cry together, laugh some more.  Tails wag.  She goes off to work; I write some, exercise, shower, open up the home office (my “commute” is about two seconds!) and begin my work day.

At night, we allow each other the time to rejoin our morning conversation.  I’ve learned that she needs her space when she gets home…I therefore don’t pounce on her for social interaction even when I’ve spent the day in relative seclusion.  It’s part of the deal that we negotiated.  And to be fair, My Bride comes up to the plate with an edited version of her day.  This keeps me apprised of the pressures and stresses that she deals with while at the Big House.  Tails continue to wag.

We’re lucky that we are brutally honest with one another, and that’s okay.  We’re lucky that we’ve had the life – and relationship – experiences that we’ve had, as that keeps us pulling in the same direction.  And we’re lucky that we share a common vision – wagging tails – and the conviction that it doesn’t really matter who has the red leash. 

Sometimes Life is a hop-step, hop-step and sometimes you carry the poop bag.

Sounds about even to me.  And it’s all good, as long as the tail is wagging.