When he’s old they won’t go away as he relaxes, those lines that parallel above his eyebrows like a notebook. And when I’m two years younger but just as crinkled, I’ll think they’re endearing. I’ll remember being at the threshold of our thirties and him giving me that heavy look. “We’re sinking.”

I always take this news not with a grain of salt, but a whole salt block because my husband, God bless him, is a proverbial tightwad.

“Ok. Everybody calm down,” I say. “Let me see.”

My arms tighten and my breathing becomes shallow as I scroll the mouse down the alleys of Quicken charts. I become downright afraid. 

How did this happen? Sure, the new car in the garage contributed but we had some here and some there and…where did it go?

I dig. Deep into the depths of my heart at what is going on in the tick-tocks of this moment. At what I want to avoid with everything in me.

It’s saying “no.” No grande half-caff mocha, two pumps caramel, skip the whip; no salsa and chips and tips; no date-night movies where Chase slurps at an ICEE and we piously roll our eyes at what we looked like 12 years ago; no camping trip with the family; maybe no dream property that we’ve been praying about and saving for. 

As the monologue between my ears slows, we settle into our roles. He panics and I rationalize. Sometimes we trade, but usually those cute wrinkles on his forehead increase with intensity and stature while I try to juggle numbers and search for what checks are due us. Except I can’t juggle anything but schedules. Sometimes. You see the predicament.

We could have to utter them. The two words we’ll do anything not to say. “We can’t” Can’t eat it, can’t drink it, can’t go.

At first glance this feels embarrassing. Shameful.

At a second take, I see that I still have coffee every morning. We eat healthier at home (Although the rest of my family probably doesn’t care and would still claw for the Hot-N-Ready if it was in front of them… Who am I kidding? So would I). We’ve never gone without shoes or meals, pillows or blankets, or Halloween costumes. In fact, sometimes the blanket IS the Halloween costume. And instead of popcorn and the sloping tiers of amphitheater seating we have the best date of our lives watching stars among the pines.

We have each other. And I’d rather live poor with you, than rich without you.