New Year’s Day…’Wait, what happened?’ He’s staring incredulously at the living room window. I remain silent and continue searching for slices of leftover pizza buried at the back of the refrigerator. ‘What did you do? What’s different?’ I turn around. ‘Oh look, more chocolate!’ I point to the large platter sitting heavily on the counter. I have begun the annual purge of chocolates, candy canes, cookies, chocolate cream Christmas trees…whatever keeps spilling out and over onto the counter after almost two months of carb/sugar/sticky crunch buildup. I hope to distract him. It’s not going to happen. ‘You changed the curtains. You changed the curtains!’ I glance over, vaguely in the general direction of the living room. ‘Um…yes I did. I changed the curtains’. Silence. I continue. ‘I’ve been wanting to lift the heaviness of those purple drapes. Look, there is just a hint of lavender in those. They encourage the wall colors; lavender and grey. They…are…encouraging’. He declares, ‘Well, we’ve lost privacy. We’ve lost it!’ ‘No we have not! I counter. ‘With the shade pulled down, it’s just as private as before’. He shakes his head mournfully. ‘We’ve lost the darkness, You’ll see’.
I turn back to the open door and the innards of the refrigerator. ‘We live where we live. Our entire climate could be described at times as ‘grey’ or ‘dark’; for a significant amount of time, actually…from November until March’. He shakes his head again. Exasperated, I respond, ‘I can only light so many candles in one winter’. I sigh as I hear myself. Candles? That’s my grand counter argument? I can only light so many candles? Clearly, I’m slipping.
He turns away from the window and stares sorrowfully at the heap of chocolate detritus. ‘But you didn’t tell me. You didn’t even ask me. I told you what I was doing with the curtains upstairs in my study’. I pull my head back out of the refrigerator and stand up straight. I’ve managed to locate two slices of mushroom pizza, while also latching on to a bottle of expired milk and a container of old eggnog. I head to the sink; rinsing the plastic and placing them in the recycling bin where they plunk and land with a hollow groan. ‘Exactly’ I begin. ‘You didn’t ask me either. You just declared your study a dark zone and poof…up went the navy curtains; it’s a cave. I have to take a flashlight with me if I’m trying to locate you to hand you your mail’. He lowers his head. ‘I need the dark to think’ he murmurs. I point to the living room window. ‘Look! It’s getting dark again! Time to start thinking! We’ve had our fifteen minutes of sunshine, popped a Vitamin D capsule and now it’s time to settle back down into blankets, hot tea and apparently…chocolate’. The shiny wrappers lying on the platter rest quietly, waiting. I look out at the gathering New Year’s Day gloom; the purple and grey striations; limp cloud formations roaming slowly over the edges of the cul-de-sac, gradually swallowing up trees, yards and the single pedestrian, strolling far in the distance. I look at him. ‘You’re going to be fine. You’ll have enough darkness for the next three months and we’ve got beautiful new curtains’. Silence. ‘With a hint of lavender. Encouraging’. I add this last hopeful word. He looks down at the counter. ‘Oh look…chocolate!’ I believe we shall be fine, indeed. This man of mine will be fine. I put my head and shoulders back into the cooled refrigerator shelving.
690 Saint Paul 