Not quite forgetting

Now that Mary's taken on a second job and essentially works full-time hours (plus walking about an hour to work each way; keeping her house immaculate; looking after her just-turned 4-year-old, and worrying about everyone else in her life nearly as much as I do), spending time together is even more difficult than before. And oh yeah, did I mention that neither one of us owns a car?

Thankfully my parents recognized the importance of my decision to try replacing my lost wedding anniversary with Jonathon's birthday enough to drive me back and forth.

I'll never understand why Mary and I attended the same university, even majoring in the same subject, for more than 3 years, yet didn't meet until the end of our final semester, but I can't imagine my life without her in it. After a lifetime of being a friend to many, but best friend to none, I can finally understand what it's like to have someone know what I mean before I speak it, and revel in knowing that she feels the same.

Our time together--especially car-less, with a child, and stuck in the midst of winter--usually involves interacting while I work on my computer and talk to Jonathon as she cleans the house, prepares food and looks after her son. With her new early work hours at Tim Horton's, twice this week she nodded off on my shoulder as I typed. She'd wake suddenly, apologizing, but for me, it felt so much like home--Pete nodding off during a movie while I worked or read on the couch beside him. And going to bed before 10 was easy enough for me--so easy that I still needed sleeping in.

On Jonathon's birthday, she and her husband woke early to give him his birthday gift: a set of paints and an easel with a chalk board on one side and whiteboard on the other. Since her husband wouldn't be home for supper, I was happy to be there, watching him blow out one candle at a time on each cupcake. Listening as Mary's sister's called and he wasn't quite sure how to talk with them on the phone. Seeing his grandpa stop by with a present and having him announce that he was turning 4...tomorrow.

Still, I couldn't spend my anniversary without my husband, finally giving in and calling him when my computer refused to work. He fixed the problem, of course, as he always does. And when I called again two days later because I'd again caused the same problem, this time he took control of my computer from 90 minutes away and fixed the problem for good.

When he heard we'd been watching a romantic comedy (Mary's attempt to stay up and spend time with me), he said, "But you don't like romantic comedies." True, but I had been working on my computer at the same time. I couldn't go to sleep without remembering that just four years before we'd been catching a few hours of sleep before getting up for an early flight to the Dominican. I know I've always thought too much.

Mary mentioned later that she'd heard me say I didn't really like romantic comedies once, marveling at how well Pete and I still knew each other. What can I say? I don't get over anyone easily, whether husbands, "nephews" or best friends. Perhaps the one man I chose to marry isn't as forgetful as I always thought.