in the morning.
Sir gets up and goes to work it is before I have a need to get up. About six-eight months ago, I started getting up to put his socks and shoes on. It's gotten to the place that when he opens his sock drawer, I wake up. It's amazing. The sound of the wood, sliding open, him removing his socks from the drawer...my response is Pavlovian. I can be in a dead sleep and that act - not the alarm, not him getting out of bed, not the shower, not getting dressed...but opening his drawer, and I'm awake. I pull back the covers, immediately, roll off of his side of the bed, sit cross-legged on the floor and take his socks. I take one of his feet and set it on my knee. I take the socks apart and put one sock on - touching his foot, rubbing it as I pull it up, caressing his calf as I smooth the top, I pull down his pant leg, then put on his shoe (most frequently black dress shoes), tie them, then set his foot back on the floor. I then redo the same process with the other foot. When I'm done, I stand up, get back in bed and he kisses me and tells me to have a good day.
It's not much, but it means a lot to me. I never knew how much it meant until I was sick this week and he didn't wake me up and I didn't wake up. I had the stomach flu and was really OUT of it. So, he was doing me a kindness in letting me sleep. I felt so sad about not doing this little thing. I felt ... dissatisfied ... like something was missing (other than my food). I really missed this small act. Today I got up and put on his socks and shoes and it was so meaningful to me. And as I type this, that seems so silly to say. Putting on someones shoes - meaningful? But really it was to ME. All's is right in my world.