On being saved

I had a bad day today. I remember on past bad days thinking of the significant people in my life and just willing them silently through tears to come save me. Just come over, come sit with me, hold my hand, make me eat dinner, give me a hug that lasts longer than a minute, tell me it's going to be OK and really mean it. And do all that without sucking away my pride.

I remember wishing it, hoping, but knowing it wouldn't happen. Not because these people didn't care, they just had other commitments, other priorities.

Today when I texted Lampshade at work to tell him of my rather unfortunate day, he called. Four times until I answered. Through tears, I told him the details. He wanted to fix it as unfixable as it was. Shortly later, I got a voicemail. "I am on my way home." To save me.

There was nothing he could do from home to fix it. Except sit on the couch with me. Hold my hand. Order me Chinese food so that I refueled after the tears zapped my strength. Gave me a hug that lasted for hours, not minutes. Told me it was going to be OK and meant it because he was the one who was going to be there if it did all fall apart.

And did all that in a way that not only salvaged my pride but empowered me.

It's 3:30 a.m. The tears that are stinging in my eyes are a little about the events of my day and a lot about the overwhelming love and gratefulness I have for the one that holds my hand in solidarity even as he sleeps.