Change, perhaps.

Things here have been going fairly smoothly. My promise to myself "not to get upset" has had a great deal to do with that, I think. People may not be able to be trusted, all affection may be absent, discussing and listening reduced to matters of chores and the need for the vehicle, but life is just more pleasant without whining, complaining or screaming about one's dissappointments.

There's been the danger, though, of thinking "everything is fine." It looks fine (as long as one doesn't look too deep), it feels fine, (as long as one doesn't feel too deep)--so who wants to mess with the illusion? Doing so (accidentally and totally unprepared) is how I discovered the mess we were in.

So, I decided I wouldn't mess, but nothing would change until something changed.

But, the night before last, something did. He made me a sandwich. Not a sandwich, exactly, really, but a burritto. I'd just come home from my Bible study (Book of Esther with Beth Moore. Can't recommend her enough!) and the kids and he had just got in from their activities. The burrito could have been for anyone.

Sad to say, I don't think he's ever made me anything without my asking. In fact, he will often make himself a snack without saying a word to me about it, let alone offering to fix me something too. I railed on him for years about it.

So, there it was, all wrapped up in a soft disk of dough, dripping with melted sour cream, hot from the microwave--an offering. Exactly of what, I'm not sure. But I'm watching.