A month ago, I got married and it’d been a pretty beautifully convenient routine so far.
We call it in anytime between 11pm and 2am. Sleep in till 10am or 11am — and we begin our day by scrambling for breakfast and end it by filling our bellies as well (I always wake up hungry, but he couldn’t care less about food); receive visitors ( which was an everyday-non stop occurrence in the first 2 weeks); visit others; read books (on my third book within the month, he’s on his first); be in each other’s business — in my head, I call it the Eat. Pray. Love. routine.
We’d barely had separate routines until I registered at a weekend school and started last weekend. He spent the first day hanging around the school area just in case I might need him (it may or may not have anything to do with what I told him about my father being there with me for an entire week, doing all my registrations for me during my first year as an undergrad).
We’d spent the past month deliberating on what to do next with our lives both as individuals and as a unit. He had the options of going back to his. old job or starting a new one. I had the options of going back to school, waiting on a job and starting an enterprise. His was the harder choice to make. Mine was pretty easy — start school and an enterprise.
In all of this, what we both did not really put into account was how much our pretty convenient routine was going to change.
I’d been doing my enterprising from my kitchen, with him as my taste tester — so it didn’t feel much different from me making us lunch and us having a discussion over it. My husband reported to his new job yesterday; to start this morning and it felt different. So different. When he returned home, we talked about his job and its nature and his boss had a message for me :
Apologize to your wife for me, because I’m going to be keeping you here till late, say 9pm or even 10pm.
We also tested out our FaceTime, just in case we’ll need it.
This morning, it really hit me how much different things are going to be around here — starting with an early gloomy breakfast. This is the world giving me the space I said I wanted ( I might have told him we’re in each other’s space a lot and we need to get busy) — which is good, somewhat. He gets to do his work and I get to do mine without distractions.
I’m sat here, at the breakfast table, where my husband left me, not knowing what to do next and for the rest of the day.
What I know is this; this is the beginning of a journey together. And In Shaa Allah, no matter how long, it shall be worth it.
