Diamonds

I need to share this incredible event that’s just taken place.

Last night my partner cooked dinner.

When I pretend to be someone else looking at that statement it’s hilariously banal.

In my world it’s a bit like saying that a man who was wheelchair bound had suddenly stood up to answer the phone and didn’t make a big deal of it.

Maybe he’s always doing this sort of thing when I’m not looking (like the character in Little Britain who behind his carer’s back stands up from his chair to get what he wants).

I could have cried with happiness though you wouldn’t have noticed amidst the hormonal overload.

Cooking signifies so much. Cooking requires energy. It requires confidence that you can get it right. He wasn’t overwhelmed by the details which is what usually happens when a thing has more than one or two steps required to complete it.

On a deeper level it’s an acknowledgment that he’s part of us, that he has a role to play in our day-to-day survival.

And he did it with generosity, without complaint. He did it well and with a matter-of-factness that blew me away with its sense of normal domesticity.

I am just so happy. And I’m going to be happy without reserve because being circumspect with happiness doesn’t really save me anything down the track. I don’t get a softer landing or anything.

Flo