An Ode to my Husband

At three in the morning, you convince me to finally go to sleep in our bed, vowing to help me at any moment. You were so tired, but so worried. You wish to hold me, yet you fear touching me for you may graze the cuts in my belly. Hours later, you leap to your feet to gather my pills, yogurt, water, and ice packs. Pulling me out of bed and walking me to the restroom,  you smile and tease as always. Every few hours, you force me to get up and walk, just as the doctor told you to. As I wince, so do you.

In the evening, you pack up the apartment, clean, and prepare. Stopping here and there to feed me and be sure I am walking around. You rub my sore back, shoulders, and feet.

I am your fragile wife, and you are my everything.

My scars will fade, but the memory of you serving me so tenderly will remain. When I doubt, you remind me. When I worry, you assure me. When I cry, you hold me. We never wanted any of this, but you are right here with me. Gently, you hold me steady. We move forward together.

It's ten o'clock. You bring my pills again.

I love you.