August 1, 2019.
Jamie has a habit of opening envelopes and packages addressed to me. It’s not a big deal. I warn him if a secret birthday or holiday package will be arriving and ask that he avoids getting the mail. He does.
It’s August.
A package arrives in the mail. It’s a padded envelope from Etsy. I know exactly what is going to be in the envelope. It’s a metal sign that says, “NO HANDBILLS.” It’s for our wall that will eventually be covered in music posters and handbills.
Jamie opens it. The padding is actually tiny, white, styrofoam balls and grey fuzz.
He hands me the package and warns, “Watch out you don’t touch the stuffing.”
I quickly quip, “Why? Is it going to give me cancer?”
I can’t help but to burst into maniacal laughter. It’s truly the first time I’ve laughed in almost a month. It is a laugh from deep within, a place of anger, a joke that was so funny because it is true, and a coping mechanism to avoid the severity and hurt caused by my situation and issue.
He looks at me in shock. And with such innocence he responds, “No, you are dressed nice and I didn’t want you to get the mess all over your pretty dress.”
I stand there dumbfounded, but even to this day I find this to be a hysterical joke.
No comments:
Post a Comment