What had gotten me through my busy day at work was knowing I’d come home to my husband in the evening.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” Aaron called as I walked in.
We’d gotten married a year before—right out of college. Some thought we were too young, but we wanted a head start on our plan: We’d live in the country. Aaron would open his own bed-and-breakfast. We’d cuddle up with our Labrador retriever.
So far we had a long way to go. Aaron wasn’t even working at a bed-and-breakfast. Instead of strolling the countryside I was navigating the Washington, D.C., highways. We didn’t have a dog. But we were together every evening and every weekend. We were compromising our plan, but just until we got on track.
I peeked into the little dining area off the kitchen. Aaron had set the table with our best china. We ate Cornish hens by candlelight. Afterward we sat out on our little balcony holding hands and talking. It was the one part of the day that was just the way I’d dreamed.
“Remember that great job I applied for?” Aaron asked. “The one I wasn’t qualified enough to get?” I remembered the ad. It was at one of the best bed-and-breakfasts in the country. We figured it couldn’t hurt for Aaron to get an interview.
“I didn’t get it, but they offered me an entry-level job in the dining room,” Aaron said. “A five-star inn!”
I threw my arms around Aaron. “Angels must have had a hand in this! And you’re just telling me now? It’s our dream come true.”
“Not exactly,” Aaron said. “The schedule’s erratic—on top of the long commute. Sometimes I’ll have to work nights—and weekends.”
I pulled away. I thought angels had helped Aaron get this job, but angels would never have given us a job like this. We were supposed to be moving toward the life we’d planned. Not making more compromises!
But then I saw the hope in his eyes. It wasn’t his own bed-and-breakfast, but this job was a step in that direction. “It’s just a temporary compromise,” I said.
Aaron settled quickly into his new position. Getting used to not seeing each other evenings and weekends was harder to adjust to. Weekends were the worst. Aaron’s schedule at the inn changed so often, we couldn’t even make plans in advance. One Friday night I fell asleep on the couch with a book. “Kate,” Aaron whispered when he came in late.
“Oh, hi, sweetie,” I muttered. “Did you have a good day?”
“Great day,” he said. “Except—I really missed you.”
I missed you too, I wanted to say. Too much. But I wanted to be a good sport. “Maybe it would help if I had company around the house,” I said. “Let’s go down to the shelter tomorrow and get that Lab puppy we always talked about.”
“I have to work tomorrow.”
“That’s two Saturdays in a row!”
“We’ll go the first Saturday I’m off,” Aaron said. “Promise.”
“I don’t want a puppy!” I yelled. “I want my husband!” I stomped into the bedroom and shut the door. Nothing was working out as planned. Aaron and I made up before going to sleep, but I tossed and turned all night. Aaron had an early day at work and was gone before I woke.
The day dragged on. I busied myself with chores around the house and then grocery shopping. When I came home I collapsed on the couch. What’s that smell? I wondered. Then I recognized it.
“Cornish hens in five minutes,” Aaron called from the kitchen. He’d set the table with our wedding china. After dinner we sat on our balcony.
“This is how it used to be every night, remember?” I said.
Aaron took my hand. “God sent me my dream job, but God also sent me my dream girl. If I can’t have both, you’re more important than any job.”
I thought back to our wedding vows: for better or for worse. Nothing about things going according to plan. Was our life really that bad? Aaron and I were healthy and gainfully employed. And we loved each other.
“We probably wasted a lot of nights sitting around when we worked the same schedule,” I said. “From now on, whenever we have a weekend together, we’ll do something special. So what if we can’t make plans ahead of time. It’ll make life exciting.”
On Aaron’s first Saturday off we packed a picnic and drove into the mountains. We even made it down to the animal shelter. “You need a fenced-in yard to qualify,” the woman at the shelter said after we filled out paperwork to adopt a puppy.
Another plan dashed, I thought as I turned to leave.
“Wait,” Aaron said. “Maybe we can compromise—since we’re already so good at it!”
Now we are a family of three: me, Aaron, and our cat, Cinnamon.
Bike rides, cruising the mall, a last-minute double date with friends—when Aaron has an evening or weekend off we make it memorable. And we remember that compromises of one sort or another are part of life.
I’m sure angels did help Aaron get that job. They knew that flexing our compromise muscles keeps our marriage strong. And that cats make very good company.
