Darius Sei'taer
19th April 2004, 01:57
The Silly husband
It was a quiet day in March. The wind was a little chill, as if the god of winter was blowing out his fury between narcoleptic fits. Recent snowfall covered the green patches of grass springing up everywhere. Trees looked as if happened upon in the act of changing their clothes to bathe. Ice crystals danced across frozen mud. A dried leaf swooped up by a gentle gust flittered high up in the clouds much like Forrest Gump’s feather. Sailing over trees and houses floating seemingly like a happy angel, until suddenly as if suddenly guided by some higher instruction kamakazeed themselves toward an old ‘67 mustang. Dropping like a stone, it in the last moments was caught by a gust of wind. As if it were a brush on the last stroke of a masterpiece, slide the leaf between the windshield wiper and windshield of the vehicle named for wild horses of the old west.
All in all, it was a crisp quiet day. One would never guess I was sweating inside a warehouse working to get the abnormally high number of orders out that same day. Working alone as usual striving and trying to do the work of three people I chugged along. The warehouse staff gone I was trying to step up processing a little. Separating brain from body sending consciousness from the machinery and to mind I delved in my thoughts. I wondered about my future ‘Would I remain working here?’ ‘How long will it take me to pay back my home loans?’ ‘Should I start trying to find plan B’s?’ ‘Would I go back for my masters this summer?’ ‘Probably not.’ Thoughts whistled through my head and yet I felt a calm not often felt in my life, a calm sense of anticipation, I would later name it in retrospect.
Luckily, and unluckily the work day soon ended, exhausted I headed for my house. Passing the ants seeping out of the zoo, I tried to avoid being stung or bitten. Cars soon became fewer and far between as I drew closer to the sanctum or sanitarium depending on the time of day. Stabling my horse-powered cart I slid the garage door down and enter our comfy house. Just larger than an apartment it was enough for me. I walked into laundry room/Kitchen and tried to pick up where my wife was. Silence was my only answer.
Upon closer inspection of the kitchen I noticed an odd shadow in the microwave. Opening the door I saw a meal, meatloaf, mashed potatoes mixed with a touch of chile verde. Still slightly warm, a tentative morsel was voted the food too chill for my taste and it was returned to the microwave. A note led me to the fridge where I found garden salad I could smell with was bathed lightly with lemon.
As I bustled about the kitchen, I heard a sound. And looking up got a glimpse of a white streak passed the back door. There went Pip our white Samoyed chasing air as usual it seemed to me. “Darius James Kheldon what is this?” Feeling much like Homer Simpson, I looked at my wife Jasmine and put on my most sheepish smile. “Haven’t I asked you repeatedly not track mud in the house? You are worse than Pip.”
Looking down at my feet I hastened to untie my shoes and in my haste and nervous shame I flipped the plate onto the floor. Quickly I rushed to clean up the floor. That hadn’t elicited any angry sound I looked toward my wife. Jasmine’s eyes were focused onto some far point while uncharacteristically held her hips. “Dari, do I look fatter to you?” she asked in a suddenly sweet tone.
‘Man. This day gets better and better.’ I grumbled internally. Ignoring my few years of married experience, I might suggest due to hunger, fatigue, and temporary insanity, I answered “Well, we haven’t been to the Gym for a while.” There are moments when we wish for words back, and there are moments when we wish for them back or a plane to crash on us in that post-thoughtless moment. This moment was one of the latter.
Tears welled up in her eyes and she fled. I hastened a shamed “I’m sorry . . . ” Shook my head at myself and endeavored to clean the kitchen. I would apologize to her later. I thought.
I cleaned up the mess I made called in hoover and sat to watch the news. I fell asleep and about two wandered into bed.
The next day the same routine struggled to put in some extra hours after the warehouse personnel skated off. Came to the humble home found a note telling me my wife was at my sister’s house. When she came home, I mumbled some apologies about the day before which she accepted absentmindedly. I asked her how my sister was and she said some faint response then headed to bed where she slept until the next day.
Knowing something was a foot I bought some flowers, and I even made sure to tell them to put babies’ breath in with the flowers. Jenna Kay Schubert, the florist and her husband Dr. Egan Schubert were friends of ours, said to me beamingly “Congratulations Dari.” Trying to hide my puzzlement I smiled and said some kind of noncommital response and scooted on home.
Upon arrival at my abode I happened upon my wife knitting and humming to herself, as I drew closer I had an epiphany and I said it aloud “You are pregnant!” I said somewhat questioningly alarmed and happy all at once. My dear sweet wife just sighed and said “Yes my silly husband for four months now according to Egan.” She went on but I began to ramble in my thoughts. That’s whys . . . abounded as fireflies on a summer’s night. It all came in rush I understood now it all made sense.
“Yes, she said as if reading my thoughts, that is why I haven’t been myself lately. I wasn’t sure, I just found out today. I know how difficult things are at work. I didn’t want to wor- . . . !” she didn’t finish because I hugged her and started telling how much I loved her. Questions and decisions would follow for the moment all I knew was that I loved my dear sweet wife and we going to have a baby.
It was a quiet day in March. The wind was a little chill, as if the god of winter was blowing out his fury between narcoleptic fits. Recent snowfall covered the green patches of grass springing up everywhere. Trees looked as if happened upon in the act of changing their clothes to bathe. Ice crystals danced across frozen mud. A dried leaf swooped up by a gentle gust flittered high up in the clouds much like Forrest Gump’s feather. Sailing over trees and houses floating seemingly like a happy angel, until suddenly as if suddenly guided by some higher instruction kamakazeed themselves toward an old ‘67 mustang. Dropping like a stone, it in the last moments was caught by a gust of wind. As if it were a brush on the last stroke of a masterpiece, slide the leaf between the windshield wiper and windshield of the vehicle named for wild horses of the old west.
All in all, it was a crisp quiet day. One would never guess I was sweating inside a warehouse working to get the abnormally high number of orders out that same day. Working alone as usual striving and trying to do the work of three people I chugged along. The warehouse staff gone I was trying to step up processing a little. Separating brain from body sending consciousness from the machinery and to mind I delved in my thoughts. I wondered about my future ‘Would I remain working here?’ ‘How long will it take me to pay back my home loans?’ ‘Should I start trying to find plan B’s?’ ‘Would I go back for my masters this summer?’ ‘Probably not.’ Thoughts whistled through my head and yet I felt a calm not often felt in my life, a calm sense of anticipation, I would later name it in retrospect.
Luckily, and unluckily the work day soon ended, exhausted I headed for my house. Passing the ants seeping out of the zoo, I tried to avoid being stung or bitten. Cars soon became fewer and far between as I drew closer to the sanctum or sanitarium depending on the time of day. Stabling my horse-powered cart I slid the garage door down and enter our comfy house. Just larger than an apartment it was enough for me. I walked into laundry room/Kitchen and tried to pick up where my wife was. Silence was my only answer.
Upon closer inspection of the kitchen I noticed an odd shadow in the microwave. Opening the door I saw a meal, meatloaf, mashed potatoes mixed with a touch of chile verde. Still slightly warm, a tentative morsel was voted the food too chill for my taste and it was returned to the microwave. A note led me to the fridge where I found garden salad I could smell with was bathed lightly with lemon.
As I bustled about the kitchen, I heard a sound. And looking up got a glimpse of a white streak passed the back door. There went Pip our white Samoyed chasing air as usual it seemed to me. “Darius James Kheldon what is this?” Feeling much like Homer Simpson, I looked at my wife Jasmine and put on my most sheepish smile. “Haven’t I asked you repeatedly not track mud in the house? You are worse than Pip.”
Looking down at my feet I hastened to untie my shoes and in my haste and nervous shame I flipped the plate onto the floor. Quickly I rushed to clean up the floor. That hadn’t elicited any angry sound I looked toward my wife. Jasmine’s eyes were focused onto some far point while uncharacteristically held her hips. “Dari, do I look fatter to you?” she asked in a suddenly sweet tone.
‘Man. This day gets better and better.’ I grumbled internally. Ignoring my few years of married experience, I might suggest due to hunger, fatigue, and temporary insanity, I answered “Well, we haven’t been to the Gym for a while.” There are moments when we wish for words back, and there are moments when we wish for them back or a plane to crash on us in that post-thoughtless moment. This moment was one of the latter.
Tears welled up in her eyes and she fled. I hastened a shamed “I’m sorry . . . ” Shook my head at myself and endeavored to clean the kitchen. I would apologize to her later. I thought.
I cleaned up the mess I made called in hoover and sat to watch the news. I fell asleep and about two wandered into bed.
The next day the same routine struggled to put in some extra hours after the warehouse personnel skated off. Came to the humble home found a note telling me my wife was at my sister’s house. When she came home, I mumbled some apologies about the day before which she accepted absentmindedly. I asked her how my sister was and she said some faint response then headed to bed where she slept until the next day.
Knowing something was a foot I bought some flowers, and I even made sure to tell them to put babies’ breath in with the flowers. Jenna Kay Schubert, the florist and her husband Dr. Egan Schubert were friends of ours, said to me beamingly “Congratulations Dari.” Trying to hide my puzzlement I smiled and said some kind of noncommital response and scooted on home.
Upon arrival at my abode I happened upon my wife knitting and humming to herself, as I drew closer I had an epiphany and I said it aloud “You are pregnant!” I said somewhat questioningly alarmed and happy all at once. My dear sweet wife just sighed and said “Yes my silly husband for four months now according to Egan.” She went on but I began to ramble in my thoughts. That’s whys . . . abounded as fireflies on a summer’s night. It all came in rush I understood now it all made sense.
“Yes, she said as if reading my thoughts, that is why I haven’t been myself lately. I wasn’t sure, I just found out today. I know how difficult things are at work. I didn’t want to wor- . . . !” she didn’t finish because I hugged her and started telling how much I loved her. Questions and decisions would follow for the moment all I knew was that I loved my dear sweet wife and we going to have a baby.