The Good Stuff

This is a relationship, timeless togetherness.

As I stood in line for the movie, I knew Shawn would come and get me, escort me to the theater and be glad I was there. It made me think about writing this post to somehow explain all the good stuff that happens after fighting through all the bad stuff for decades.

These are the rewards. They seem small, sometimes inconsequential but they’re not – they are the things that lift you up, give you hope, let you know that you’re not alone, and that God has your back with His perfect plan.

Shawn knows me. He knows I don’t feel comfortable around people right now, that I need to be independent even though he knows I spend most of my time afraid. Afraid to get lost, afraid that I’ll get too confused, overwhelmed by the sounds, colors, bustle of crowds. That I am struggling right now.

I know watching this movie will make him feel vulnerable, that it will effect his PTSD and that without his meds, the sounds, colors, hustle of the crowds will make him feel vulnerable, even afraid.

As I see him walking towards me, his smile when he sees me, the kiss that lets everyone in the room know I am his – I’m in awe, in love, and happy.

He walks with me to the theater, leading the way – but not too far out front (he knows it irritates me if he walks too far ahead, like he is in charge…he knows I need him just a footstep ahead so I can follow but not be led).

We walk to our seats, ones he has chosen far enough a way to give us space but close enough to let the others know that we are participating with the group.

A couple, friends of ours, are across the aisle, one row higher and in the last two chairs before the aisle. Shawn is on the outside of the two chairs we take on the left of the theater. Another friend is one chair in from the same seating area as us and one row down in front of us. So are two more friends, one chair in between them, and in the aisle farther down still.

I smile and ask Shawn to get me some candy – I already know he will, because he loves me and wants to make me happy. And he probably wants to protect his candy and popcorn (that I have already eaten my share of).

I tease him hours later as we get ready to watch Gray’s Anatomy series on Netflix for the fourth time. “I know you went to get my candy because you want to get laid”. I’m laughing and responding to some random comment he made about me being sexy or that I need to give it up.

He laughs. “I’ll take it,” he warns, smiling.

I love this too. Him knowing I can’t always have sex, that sometimes it just hurts. Him knowing I love making love with him.

I had threatened earlier that if he didn’t buy me a new egg: I raise my fist and shake it at him. “I can’t take the ‘sorry momma’ comment another day if your don’t buy me a new egg!”

This banter about the candy is an extension of the egg comments hours earlier. This is a relationship. One that goes on for hours and days and years and a lifetime. Every moment is an extension of another.

Author: Spirit

Spirit, also known as Lynne M. Hanson, is a freelance blog writer who shares anecdotes and stories based on her real-life experiences in hopes of empowering others. See more - here -

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