A DELICIOUS COMPATABILITY

i A DELICIOUS COMPATABILITY 

      A delightful compatibility has marked our marriage from Day One. Not simply because she routinely anticipates my every need, including the many I did not and do not anticipate or the many others I wasn’t even cognizant of—until I become repeatedly and dimly aware that something has become easier or grown more comfortable or works better even though I’m not quite sure why or, often, even what. I simply have the sense that something is better. Perhaps I suddenly find my shoes are more comfortable or that I no longer have a hole in the knee of my pants or the hardware on the rolling trash container I’ve been having trouble with now works perfectly or the coat I like wearing but which doesn’t keep me warm during the winter, is no longer hanging on the back of the door. Instead, there is a coat I like less but which keeps me warm and comfortable. And, during the recent post-shoulder replacement surgery recovery period, all the things I’d once reached comfortably but could no longer for were suddenly down where I could easily get at them. But compatibility implies mutual contributions and I’m afraid her own contributions outweigh my own by a large margin.  I try but anticipate very little. I do comply with certain obligations but that’s because I’ve got them written down and my alarm set. I bring her coffee in bed every morning because I know I’m supposed to; not because I’ve anticipated it. But there’s a much more tangible manifestation of our compatibility.

      I love nuts and she is allergic to them, so I have a delicious snack ready at all times, right on the open counter, undisguised because there is no danger she will eat them and when Christmas or my birthday arrives, I can count on an exotic assortment from family & friends who know and thoughtfully acknowledge the realities: roasted nuts from Zabar’s in NYC, a tin of salted favorites from a neighbor, candied nuts, sugar coated pecans.  Sometimes they arrive with dried fruit which I graciously share but I have the nuts all to myself.  Truth be known, even if she liked them, she wouldn’t be much of a threat.  Years ago, she loved Necco Wafers & would squirrel a tube away in the cupboard which I’d inevitably discover to find that the top wafer had a nibble taken out of it—a nibble!  The next day that one wafer would be further gone but not quite and on the third day it would have disappeared. On the fourth day another nibble & so on. When the tube got down to about three inches tall—just about what I could squeeze between my upper and lower teeth with my mouth wide open—I’d chomp down on the remaining cylinder and eat them all as a mouthful. A while ago I bought a box of Klondike Bars and, ever conservative, ate seven over as many days.  She nibbled one and it’s still not gone.  It’s an agreeable arrangement.