My phone rang as I made my way home from work yesterday. It was Tommy.
Tommy: “Are we still going out tonight?”
It’s cold, wet, and hailing in Jerusalem these days and the only thing that I wanted to do was go home and hang out in fleece pajamas under a warm blanket.
Me: “Um, I think we are going to have to rethink our plans. Can you pick up dinner on your way home? Thanks.”
Like many couples we plan “date nights” when we go out and do something new together to enjoy each other’s company and break up the routine. Making these evenings happen is an important part of everything that we are going through; they are little escapes from the disappointments. But most importantly they are reminders of all that we have in each other. I usually walk away with a half full glass – though if the evening involves a good bottle of wine the glass is definitely empty by the end of it!
Both of us were looking forward to an evening out. The week has not been easy. My body and its constant changes have left me feeling physically and emotionally out of control – you never know if it’s the hormones affecting you or something else. After our most recent appointment with our doctor, we have been mulling over some big decisions and feel mostly left in a haze of uncertainty. The idea of going out to a nice dinner and just forgetting it all was exactly what we needed.
My commitment to date night aside, the weather put a real damper on things. While you can’t complain about rain in Israel (we desperately need it these days), I don’t feel obligated to venture out in hail. Date night would have to wait. I made my way home on the bus and the phone rang again.
Tommy: “Where are you? Are you close? It’s pouring outside and I don’t have an umbrella.”
He was standing under a covered walkway between our apartment and the bus stop.
Me: “I’ll be home in ten minutes and yes I have my umbrella. Wait for me and we can walk home together.”
I stepped off the bus and saw Tommy standing in a tiny haven from the storm. In truth I was skeptical that we would be able to share my small umbrella and assumed I would end up soaked. I handed him the umbrella and we started to walk, he put his arm around me to both coordinate our pace and to maximize the umbrella’s coverage. At a certain point he started to sing. You’re crazy, I thought. Then I joined him. There we were: one umbrella, torrential downpour, and singing. I wished that that moment would never end because I felt complete, wanting for nothing, and happy beyond my wildest dreams. It lasted a mere two minutes but in that brief period, we escaped, together.