Time for connecting

Micah was amused. When he walked into the family room, what he saw was Sara’s butt up in the air and her head under the couch. Although her voice was muffled, he could just make out that she was asking Ruby, their four year old, if she was sure that this was where her ballet slippers were.
When he looked around for Ruby, he found her pouring her breakfast cereal. She had again pulled over a kitchen chair in order to climb up to the counter. Since the chair was on wheels, Micah made a mad dash into the kitchen to prevent a nasty turn of events.
When Sara surfaced, holding Ruby’s ballet slippers as well as Luke’s spelling homework, she went to check on whether Luke, their seven year old, had gotten dressed for school.
A few minutes later, Micah headed off to wait with Luke at the school bus stop while Sara drove off to drop Ruby at pre-school.
The next time Micah saw Sara, she was walking out the door to take Luke to basketball practice. He took Ruby into the kitchen and made her dinner.
That evening, when both kids had had their baths, brushed their teeth, and had their bedtime stories, Sara sat down at her desk to pay bills while Micah went to his computer to continue researching replacing the siding on their 25 year old house.
They both surfaced at about 10 p.m. and headed for the stairs.
Micah slipped his arm around Sara’s waist and whispered in her ear, “Hi there, stranger.” Sara smiled and leaned into him.
As they climbed the stairs this way, Sara said with a sigh, “I know you were just being cute, but sometimes I feel like we are strangers. We wrangle kids, we manage the house, but when was the last time we talked to each other about anything else?”
Micah sighed in response. “I agree. I distinctly remember when we used to spend hours on end just talking to each other, about everything and nothing. I miss that.” And he gave her a squeeze. She hugged back and kissed his neck. “Remember when you first told me that your dream was to become a published author?” He smiled. “And you told me that you’d always dreamed of becoming a ballerina?”
They smiled affectionately at each other. He said, “I really miss those talks.” She said, “But we don’t have those hours on end anymore.”
He frowned, “No, we don’t, but we could probably find an hour sometime during the week. When the kids aren’t present, we’re always so quick to use the time for other things—cleaning, work we’ve brought home, paying bills or home improvement research. All useful things, of course. Couldn’t we make a commitment to use some of that time for just us?”
She looked surprised. “You mean just sit down, the two of us, and talk, the way we used to?” She chewed at her lip for a moment, the way she always did when considering a new idea. She looked up at him. “This is going to take practice, you know. We’ve become so efficient and responsible. It feels pretty radical to just sit and talk to each other when there’s work to be done.” She smiled up at him a little shyly. “What would we talk about? We’re so out of practice.”
“Well, I don’t think our dreams would be quite the same as they were when we were first out of college. But we still have them. Or it could be as simple as talking about what was good about today, or scary or exciting about tomorrow; that kind of thing. What do you think?” He looked up at her hopefully.
He looked so excited at the idea of talking with her that it just warmed her heart. The idea of sharing thoughts with another adult, one that she loved and respected, and who knew her better than anyone—wow, she was getting pretty excited herself.
Always the practical one, she started mentally scanning their family calendar. “I’ve got it!” He looked up at her expectantly. “When the kids are in Sunday school, we could have an hour and a half all to ourselves!” She frowned. “But how are we going to keep from getting sucked into everything that needs doing around here?”
He thought for a moment and then said, triumphantly, “We won’t be here!” She looked at him, puzzled. “We’ll go out for brunch while they’re in school. We used to do that every Sunday morning, remember? Ah, Belgian waffles; yummm.” She smiled at the memory.
She held out her hand and said, “Deal.” He took her hand and pulled her into a hug. “Deal.” They sealed the commitment with a kiss.