This is the beat of a heart: the way my family expands and contracts in rhythm with the week. And it's making something good into something even stronger.
Huck and I separate during the week, each to our own lives, our own selves, our own decisions and spirit's ways. And when we return to each other on the weekends, we are more ourselves together and less absorbed by the entity of family. The time away allows our time together to remain fresh and growing. The ruts don't last and each weekend we have an opportunity to create new paths of relating.
And now more than ever, when we visit each other's space we are more appreciative. He comes to Wenatchee and I thank him for cleaning "my" kitchen. I visit Spokane and he thanks me for cleaning "his" kitchen. The obligation to do our chores in our space disappears and we are simply thankful to have the other person here and helping us in our obligations.
There's certainly danger in this wide and flat elliptical orbit. Will one of us slingshot back into space, back on to our own distinct path never to return?
The first few hours of our weekends together usually involve the re-establishment of the pack order with some bickering, nipping, and barking. We soon settle into our latest version of our relationship and then move away again to do our own thing.
I thought I'd hate this. And there are things I definitely don't like about it. But it's been interesting to observe ourselves in this dance between having and have not-ing of each other.
What a shmultzy little blog entry! I hope no one pukes.