The Guiding Light
A friend just posted a cartoon of a couple sitting on a park bench in the rain. She is angry at him and turns away from him in a sulk. That doesn’t stop him from opening the umbrella and holding it over her head, worried that she may catch a cold, while he sits unprotected. I smiled at that, remembering…
One October morning, quite a few years ago, I was upset at Peter and was determined not to speak to him. He went to the office, and I silently simmered at home all morning. In the afternoon, I decided to go visit a friend who lived a distance away from us. We really had a lovely visit. We chatted and chatted as women do. Time flew. It got dark, and suddenly we heard thunder and lightning. In dismay, I realized I had better hurry home. Sheets of rain were pouring down. The windshield wipers could not clear the windows fast enough. Visibility was almost nil. I took a turn and another and yet another… I realized that I really did not know where I was. The area looked a bit seedy. I panicked. My heart was pounding hard against my rib cage. I panted with fear. My imagination ran wild. Living in New York, one cannot help thinking of all the violent crimes committed, and if you had a husband such as mine, even more so. Some of Peter’s warnings were, “Don’t go into alcoved storefronts at night to see their window displays. Robbers love that. You would be an easy prey. If you are driving on the road alone at night and you are rear-ended, don’t stop! Keep driving! They may be sickos wanting to harm you. Better yet, if you need to go anywhere, I will take you!” Needless to say, I became wary of driving at night. I would not window shop at alcoved stores. I did not wear too much jewelry. I did not carry too much money on me, etc., etc., etc. Putting it simply, I was beginning to be afraid of my own shadow!
I never had a good sense of direction. I would get lost constantly. Sometimes I would discover some beautiful places, like the time I found the pier in Port Washington when we had just arrived here a short while. It became a place where I would go to think and sort out whatever was bothering me. Sometimes I was not able to find my way back to a beautiful spot again. That night it was not beautiful nor pleasant. I did not want to give in and call Peter. My pride would not allow it. “I can do this, I can do this,” I told myself over and over again as I got more and more embroiled in streets I had never driven. By now, I had been lost for almost an hour. I gave in. I stopped the car and took out my cell phone. It was late. I called him. He picked up immediately.
“Hello,” he said anxiously.
“I’m lost,” I said sheepishly, with a little sob in my voice.
“Where are you?”
“I don’t know!” I was really crying now.
“Calm down. Look at the street signs.”
I peered out of the windshield. The rain was unabated. Finally, I was able to make out the signs. I told him.
“Not too bad. Put your phone on speaker mode, and I will guide you back home,” he assured me.
When I finally got home, he was standing at the curb in the rain, with a huge smile of relief on his face. He opened the car door and led me into the house. I snuggled into him. How could I ever have considered not speaking to this wonderful husband! I never did that again. If I got upset, I would ask for time to calm down, and he would do the same when he got upset with me. How blessed I am to have had such a special husband…