watching from the sidelines. just off the pitch. avoiding the sweaty men who jostle for possession of a silly ball. laughing as the manager goes ballistic over small mistakes. i keep my eyes on the goal keeper. my husband.
it still boggles my mind to say it. husband. i catch myself starting to say boyfriend or fiance. i have to correct myself. i worry that people will think i am crazy or unfaithful because i can't manage to say husband. but it's just so new. my lips and tongue have to be trained around the word. i practice it at home. form the word. feel the word.
it is strange to hear the word escape my lips. i dropped off a doctors registration form. i almost broke out laughing when i handed the papers over and said... these are for my husband. i waited. irrationally. for the nurse to say congratulations. as if the world could see my affliction. as if it was written on my forehead. in big red letters. recently married.
but no. they simply said to call in a week.
so this is my life. watching him play football on sundays and mondays. though now the sunday season is over. mondays are the day for me to be a cheering supportive wife. standing outside the pitch. looking lovely and happy. avoiding sweaty men.
and their balls.