A few weeks ago my husband and I had one of those moments that I believe makes life and all of its’ machinations and madness worth it. It was a Friday afternoon and my husband was done with work early. You should read that sentence again because that almost never happens. It sure never happens when you think it might or plan for it to. No, on those days my husband’s work runs late and is extra sticky. On those days, I sit on the love seat in our camper with my lipstick already on and my purse in my lap waiting for him to solve whatever problem has just become the most important problem that has ever presented itself. Sometimes, I sit there for a long time and then we go. Sometimes, I’m still there two hours later eating a peanut butter sandwich and wearing pajamas. At some point, my husband will stop long enough to come over and drop a kiss on the top of my head, tell me he’s sorry and ask me to make him a sandwich too. This is the flow of our days. I’m used to it.

Actually that’s what I say when he apologizes for another late night or canceled plan. “It’s ok, I’m used to it.” I don’t always say that to be nice. If you’ve been married for more years than not you know what I mean.

In fairness, I don’t always mean it mean, but it always has the history of his job and what it requires behind it. I would happily tell you what he does, but I’m not even really sure I know. I know that gravelly voiced men with Cajun accents call him in the middle of the night from platforms stationed in the ocean and that is never good. I know sometimes his boss calls to say something is solved, or working or just not broken with some software somewhere and that is never bad. I know that some days he comes home and his shoulders look like my grandpa’s used to. Rounded forward and tired, but from a different kind of work than my grandpa did. But still a work with a toll.

Not that Friday though. That Friday none of that was happening. He was home early and we had nothing to do. Nowhere to be. Nobody that needed us. And, we were ok with that. Sometimes, on those rare days. we hurry to fill it with something fun. Something necessary. We go listen to a band or run to a restaurant waiting to be tried or we make the dreaded trip to Walmart. But not this day. We stood there in the middle of our living room carpet and felt the space of unplanned time fold in around us. And then, this man that I have loved for so, so long asked me to go sit outside with him.

Tell me I didn’t do just that.

Tell me I didn’t go outside and pull my chair over next to his and just sit there seeing the same world he was. Listening to the same birds. Feeling the same sun. It was as close to perfect as a moment can come. Or at least it was to me. It reminded me of the very last scene in St.Vincent a Bill Murray movie that everyone should watch. After all of the drama and learning and loving that unfolds within the movie the film ends with Bill Murray sitting outside with a water hose and a canvas lawn chair and a bunch of dirt. He’s watering the dirt indiscriminately and singing and he’s happy. One might even say he’s in the moment.

Don’t cringe. I know that’s one of those phrases that has lost all meaning. I think that’s kind of a shame. Because if you can be content watering dirt, or just sitting next to someone and enjoying the same air I think things are going your way. If you can actually realize that it’s happening in the instant that it does it smoothes over so many days that head a different direction.

So, here’s to Friday afternoons that unfold unplanned. To movies that end with Bill Murray singing. To men that come home with rounded shoulders from a hard day’s work. To the blessing of still enjoying each other after all of the drama and learning and loving that happens in life.

I hope you find yourself in the same place soon If you do, you oughta take note. And, maybe a picture. It will give you something to look at while you eat your next sandwich on the couch with hopeful lipstick and your purse in your lap.