Both parents are here tonight and sleeping, and my brother’s dog is in the kitchen (thankfully no longer itching after getting six different salves at the vet yesterday). I’m in the middle of cleaning out one of the bedrooms right now, and something from earlier was floating through my brain.
Everyone was over earlier today, so the driveway was looking like a used car lot. Harley, CLK, big Ford truck, Camry, Civic, GrandAm. There was so many cars, my sister and I pulled in sideways with our cars’ noses partially in the yard. After my sister left and I loaded up the GrandAm with stuff for transporting the smelly dog back to my brother tomorrow, my dad and I crossed paths at the front door. I asked where he was headed with the Civic’s keys, and he said he was going to turn the car around since my mom doesn’t like backing out of the driveway.
It kinda struck me that he took this small action out of consideration for her. Would she even notice that he moved the car around? Probably not, since I was the last one to drive it. He wasn’t doing it for recognition or appreciation or any greatest-husband-ever awards, though. It was just something he saw that could make her morning a little easier.
My parents haven’t always been this nice to each other. There were years, actually, where they housed out-right disdain for the other. But in the past several years, something switched, and they started enjoying each other’s company. My two months here have given me an opportunity to know their relationship in a whole other way than I’ve ever seen it before. The more I think about it now, the more I see how each of them considers the other in little ways here and there. And really, isn’t that kinda what it’s all about?