When I ran across this scene in the last book I read, I stopped in a shocked state of mind. This English lass might be me. I do this. I read and read and exist in a cocoon of words and syntax. I write and read some more. It is safe. Yes, I am often unhappy or even incredibly frustrated, but I am safe in a spot of normalcy.
I’ve done this a couple of times. The slight attempt to be treated with respect and attention. I didn’t demand it, but I suggested it. My suggestions seem to fall upon ground where sprouts spring up and wither away in neglect. The Craftsman often offers up the excuse, ‘I should have done thus and such.’ Or my least favorite, ‘I should have had someone plan something for you.’ This last is usually in response to a birthday or Mother’s day. Thankfully, I only hear that about twice a year.
As I tried to sleep, I was reviewing scenarios of standing up for myself. The reality is often less, I never hope anymore. Let me 'splain.
Valentine’s Day is my holiday. I give and mail all kinds of treats. It is the one day of the year I can legitimately love on everyone with few consequences. It also comes between my birthday and anniversary. I pack hearts and notes and fun things in lunch boxes for days on end, I make sure to put surprises on the table at breakfast for the guys, I make a fun dinner, and I always enjoy my favorite book on this day. Little Bear often accompanies dinner with stories of ‘what the guys he works with got for their girls’ and we laugh. The Craftsman almost always offers this advice, ‘You don’t need to do all that, but you should do something.’ Then he looks at me and says, ‘Your mom is better about stuff like this than I am.’
Giving me gifts is apparently not easy. Bear is good at it. He finds me fun earrings or gets me gift certificates for books and birdseed. (I always ask for the latter.) Sometimes he misses, but for the most part, he pays attention to my list of ‘Things mom wants’ I place on the fridge every year about January. (I add and subtract from it as I purchase the items on my own) The Craftsman rarely gives me anything I really like. It is often something he thinks I might appreciate, which is the whole point of a gift!
So, sit back, be tranquil, look at what might change, and remember it matters. (yikes!)