When I got home that night as my wife served dinner, I held her hand and said I’ve got something to tell you. I want a divorce. She didn’t seem to be annoyed, instead she asked me softly, why? I told her I had lost my heart to a lovely girl called Donna, and that I didn’t love her anymore.
With a deep sense of guilt, I drafted a divorce agreement which she glanced at and then tore it into pieces. The woman who had spent ten years of her life with me had become a stranger.
The next day, I came back home late and found her at the table writing something. I didn’t have supper, just went straight to sleep. The next morning she presented her divorce conditions: she didn’t want anything from me, but needed a month’s notice before the divorce. She requested that in that one month we both try to live as normal a life as possible for our son.
I agreed, but she had something more. She asked me to recall how I had carried her into our bridal room on our wedding day, and she requested that every morning for the month’s duration, I carry her out of our bedroom to the front door. I thought she was going crazy. But to make our last days together bearable, I accepted.
When I told Donna about the agreement, she seemed unthreatened and actually quite amused by my wife’s request.
My wife and I hadn’t had any body contact for months so when I carried her out on the first day, we both appeared clumsy. Our son clapped behind us, daddy is holding mommy. His words brought me a sense of pain. From the bedroom to the den, then to the door, I walked with her in my arms. She closed her eyes and said softly; don’t tell our son about the divorce. I nodded in agreement.
The second day seemed a little more comfortable. She leaned on my chest. I could smell her perfume. I realized that I hadn’t looked at this woman closely for a long time. Sure, there were fine wrinkles on her face and her hair was graying a bit. But she was beautiful. Our marriage had obviously taken its toll on her.
On the fourth day, when I lifted her up, I felt a sense of intimacy returning. This was the woman who had given ten years of her life to me. On the fifth and sixth day, I realized that our sense of intimacy was growing again. I didn’t tell Donna about this.
As we prepared for our new morning ritual, our son came in and said, Dad, it’s time to carry mom out. To him, seeing his father carrying his mother out had become an essential part of his life.
I took her in my arms, her hand surrounded my neck softly. I held her body tightly; it was just like our wedding day.
On the last day, when I held her in my arms I could hardly move a step. Our son had gone to school. I held her tightly and told her that I hadn’t noticed that our life lacked intimacy. She admitted that she hadn’t either.
As I drove to office I had to take a detour. I realized I needed to talk to Donna so I could tell her that I didn’t want a divorce anymore. She looked at me, astonished, touched my forehead and asked, Do you have a fever? I apologized and explained that my marriage life had become boring probably because she and I didn’t value the details of our lives and not because we didn’t love each other anymore. Now I realize that I am supposed to hold her every day. Donna gave me a loud slap and then slammed the door.
On my way to work I stopped by the floral shop, I ordered a bouquet of flowers for my wife. On the card I wrote: “I’ll carry you out every morning until death do us part”
The small details of our lives are what really matter in a relationship. It is not the mansion, the car, the property, the bank balance that matters. These create an environment conducive for happiness but cannot give happiness in themselves. So find time to be your spouse’s friend and do those little things for each other that build intimacy. The little things that make for a happy marriage.