It's our one-year business anniversary- or rather it was, two weeks ago. But like everything else, I'm running behind. I know it's been six months since I've written, and the regret is tangible- like when I just realize I put tomatos on a "no-tomatoes, please" sandwich, just as the customer walks about the door and I don't have even half the energy to call them back. Regret because so much has happened. A thousand stories, and even now I can't articulate a single one. So we celebrated our first year of business last Sunday afternoon, with a bottle of Champagne (read: sparkling wine, the $7/bottle kind) and a nap. The wine was awful, the nap was better. I remember when I was in college, I almost failed my 8AM classes. I thought it was unethical to expect people to be up in the sevens, and paying attention at eight. And I was so sure that once I was an adult, I would sleep so much later. Til 9 or 10, at leaset I don't know why I thought this, probably wishful thinking that I manufactured into what I assumed would be reality. Needless to say, we're up by 4:30AM everyday. I sit on the edge of our bed, in that space between asleep and awake and continue to manufacture false realities. "Tomorrow you can sleep in," I say. Or, "tonight you'll just come home and go straight to bed." They're pep talks to get me off the bench and into the day, and even as I'm believing them, I know that there's no sleeping in, and for two people who are never home, there's a ton of housework to be done at night. One year of business and the only thing I know for sure is that at the end of the day I'll be exhausted. Happy, most days, but exhausted.
Also by Naphtali...
100 Days of Love
... one couple's journey to find passion and strength in each other as they face infertility, complacency and everyday living.