“Remember a couple of months ago when we didn’t have to share a bathroom counter?” I asked Mike, fondly remembering the spacious house we recently moved out of.
“Yeah, what about it?” he asked.
“I’ll bet you really miss it.”
We both took a moment to absorb the clutter of lotions, cleansers, hair styling tools, and make-up that dominated our tiny, shared bathroom counter. The ratio of my stuff to his was embarrassing. I searched harder than I wanted to before finally finding two items that were his: a razor and a toothbrush. The smallest items on the counter. A thoughtful look passed across Mike’s face, and then he said, “Do you want to know what I think every single morning when I’m trying to navigate all this while getting ready for work?”
I braced myself to admit that I needed to scale back before I nodded for him to continue talking.
“I try to get the toothpaste from under all these cords,” he said, pointing to my hair dryer and curling iron, “and I try to be very quiet since you are still asleep, and I think how happy I am that you stayed with me.”
“You think that?” I asked, shocked.
“Every morning this reminds me that you could have packed up and left me, but you didn’t. It would be terrible if the only things on my bathroom counter were mine.”
If you need me, I’ll be tending to my melting heart.