Loved Bad Habits

We all have habits. Nice habits, bad habits. Irritating habits, funny habits. Healthy habits, hazardous habits. Habits that make people laugh, habits that make people spit nails. No matter what those habits are, they are part of our personality, they define who we are and we are closely related to them.

This morning, I am in a bus coming home. The bus is pretty packed, so I’m standing at that front corner, my mind is drifting to thoughts. I’m putting chores in order, I’m listing must-do’s for the day, I’m noting phone calls that have to be made. All of a sudden the vehicle shakes badly, all passengers grab poles and handles not to fall flat on their face. The bus halts so abruptly, the sound of the shrieking tyres is defeaning. Everyone starts cussing at the driver for being so careless. But since I’m standing close, I can see what really happened that made him step on the breaks like a maniac.

A middle-age man had just stepped down the pavement, only inches from the moving bus. The driver had two choices: to either run the man over and liquidize him or to freeze the bus and become the recipient of the passengers’ “blessings”. He chose the latter.

 So, as I said, everyone started yelling to that poor driver. Everyone but me. I suppose I’m the only one who smiled in that bus. For that inattentive middle-age man reminded me of my father. My father used to do the exact same thing. I always used to joke that he had signed a contract with civil engineers to never step on their sidewalks. He would always walk on the street, sometimes even in the middle of it. Drivers had called him names numerous times, my mother would always go mad at him for being so heedless, I always smiled and made fun of his habit.

One thing to say here is that my father is not among us anymore. He “left” one morning without a warning, I never got the chance to say goodbye. And that middle-age man brought to my mind so many familiar pictures. Of my father and his habit. That habit that used to scare me, but which I also adored at the same time. That habit that I miss. Badly. I put my shades back on so that noone could see my eyes (hey, I may carry a gun but I do have my weak moment, okay?).

My train of thoughts slowly glided on its rails and took me to the station of the next best man in my life. My husband. My significant other and his habits that most of the times make me wanna hit the roof and sound like I’m one step from a mental institution.

Generally, my hubby is very careful around the house, he is not messy and he always ALWAYS lifts the cover of the toilet, bless him. But there’s that one small thing that he does which irritates the hell out of me. He will never close a drawer or a cupboard all the way to the end even if his life depends on it. I know that it doesn’t seem like a big deal. As a matter of fact, no, it isn’t. But, on the other hand, it’s maddening to have to shut drawers, closet doors, cupboards, anything that has a door to be opened and the closed back, because someone else just didn’t care enough to do it.

So, back to the bus scene. I think of my hubby and his habit. And it suddenly hits me. If anything happened, if one day he “left” just as unanticipatedly as my father did, if I ever lost him… that habit of his would be one the things he does I would miss the most. Because it’s a part of who he is, because it defines him, because it’s one of those things that I love about him.

I got off at the next bus stop. My house was two bus stops away. But I needed to walk. My shades could not cover my face any longer. I needed to breathe.

I hurried home. I tossed my bag and my jacket… somewhere. I did not care. All I wanted was to grab the phone and call him. My hubby.

Just as I expected, he was utterly surprised to hear my voice so early in the morning. It’s most unlike me to call him at that time of the day. I did not hello him, I did not ask whether he was busy or not. “Baby, will you promise me something?”. His long pause was a sign that he was totally clueless of what I was talking about. “I want you to promise me that you will never stop not shutting the drawers, baby”.

I made him promise. I did not explain. I only wanted him to promise. Honey, thank you. For keeping your drawers half open. For making that promise. For being you. I love you.

Posted by HoneyBunny