Sunday Scribblings Post-Prompt "Reflect"
Reflect
When he comes home, the stress is as plain on him as if someone had written bad day on his forehead with sharpie markers. I don't say anything when I see him. I'm not quite sure that anything that I could say would make it any better and I know that look on his face. It's the expression that says that he has absolutely no desire to talk about what's going on.
So, I do the one thing that I can think of that might make things better. I just take him by the hand and lead him back to our bedroom. As I lay back, I tug him down beside me so he's lying alongside me. Silently, he studies me. He knows that I'm going to try to do something to cheer him up, he's just not sure what I'm planning. I roll onto my side, facing away from him, and fit my back along his chest. I guide his hand against my abdomen, so it's resting right above my solar plexus.
While we lie there, sideways on the bed, I match my breathing to his, concentrating on the steady fill and deflate of my lungs. I don't think he realizes what I'm doing as I gradually slow the respiration rate to very near the rate he breathes when he's asleep. He matches me, though, breath for breath and as he does, I can feel him relaxing as he changes that tempo to reflect mine.
We breathe that way for a few minutes and then, finally, I feel him shift just slightly, so he can wrap me in a one-armed hug. He sighs, quietly, and then says very softly, “Thanks.”
When he comes home, the stress is as plain on him as if someone had written bad day on his forehead with sharpie markers. I don't say anything when I see him. I'm not quite sure that anything that I could say would make it any better and I know that look on his face. It's the expression that says that he has absolutely no desire to talk about what's going on.
So, I do the one thing that I can think of that might make things better. I just take him by the hand and lead him back to our bedroom. As I lay back, I tug him down beside me so he's lying alongside me. Silently, he studies me. He knows that I'm going to try to do something to cheer him up, he's just not sure what I'm planning. I roll onto my side, facing away from him, and fit my back along his chest. I guide his hand against my abdomen, so it's resting right above my solar plexus.
While we lie there, sideways on the bed, I match my breathing to his, concentrating on the steady fill and deflate of my lungs. I don't think he realizes what I'm doing as I gradually slow the respiration rate to very near the rate he breathes when he's asleep. He matches me, though, breath for breath and as he does, I can feel him relaxing as he changes that tempo to reflect mine.
We breathe that way for a few minutes and then, finally, I feel him shift just slightly, so he can wrap me in a one-armed hug. He sighs, quietly, and then says very softly, “Thanks.”