In Praise of Will (and clean cat litter)

Will might as well have brought me roses. That’s how excited I was to spot the box of Raisin Nut Bran on the kitchen cart where we keep our cereal. (And actually, I don’t really care for roses all that much. Years ago, I had a mean boyfriend who often brought me roses after behaving badly, as if the flowers’ sweetness would somehow compensate for his jerkiness. Not.)

Will is good. He buys groceries. He does dishes. He puts children to bed. He works hard. He sells books. (This is my rendition of Laura’s essay about Ma in Little House on the Prairie, from Season One…I think.)

In these last difficult days of gestation, while Will quietly helps in so many wonderful ways, there is one thing he doesn’t do well: Smell the cat litter. I never thought I’d say so, but I’m actually looking forward to reuniting with that task! (In case you are unfamiliar with this particular pregnancy “plight,” click here to be enlightened.)

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A short-lived fascination with another person may be exciting—I think we’ve all seen people aglow, in a state of being “in love with love”—but such an attraction is not sustainable over the long run. Paradoxically, human love is sanctified not in the height of attraction and enthusiasm, but in the everyday struggles of living with another person. It is not in romance but in routine that the possibilities for transformation are made manifest. And that requires commitment. — Kathleen Norris, “The Quotidian Mysteries”