Last night while fretting obsessing over a formatting issue on a blog post I was trying to publish for my website, I received a text message from Jimmy.
He was downstairs.
This has become one of our habits. I mean it is easy. Sometimes it can even feel like a guilty pleasure, now don’t go gutter on me here, getting a sweet message in the middle of the work day from my husband of nearly 19 years is straight up awesome.
So he was downstairs.
We live in the same house, we both office in said “same house”—happily, I’d like to add, in different rooms on different floors. In case you hadn’t guessed we also share the same bed, although lately with my insomnia in full bloom he may beg to differ over the definition of that said sameness. We even share a car right now—not for long—but for now. And with all that sharing, it seems to me that lately we are almost never together.
So last night and the text. This is what it read:
Jimmy knows as well as I do when I say 5 minutes and I am writing messing with my blog, I really mean 20.
I read his response and looked at the clock on my computer.
Ten minutes later, I glanced at the clock again…and then I unplugged the computer and brought it downstairs.
“I can do this while we watch, I only need ears for this show anyway.”—me
“OK…”—him (insert sarcastic tone)
So there we were on the couch, me ignoring the show, Jimmy watching on his iPad. (yeah…on the off chance you actually are reading this, I saw you.) I’m guessing he was checking scores from his fantasy football league…something he can do and also watch…just don’t ask him a question if he’s texting.
Then, out of nowhere, this incredible thing happened.
One of the contestants, his name is, James Wolpert, was talking. I heard him say he was going to sing a Joni Mitchell song.
“Wow, wait, what? Did he just say a Joni Mitchell song?”—me
“Yes.”—him (mildly irritated)
And then he began to sing…
For a brief moment I was leveled. Brought back in time like only music can do. To a place that was not so good. A time when Joni Mitchell unwittingly scrapped me up from off of the proverbial sidewalk after a bitter life-fall.
But, and in this case I am so glad there is a but…
James Wolpert gave me a gift—an old favorite song that went bad, now has an altogether new context—Jimmy, right here, next to me and, corny as it may sound, constant as the northern star.
James Wolpert sings, A Case of You: