Coming Home To A Script

I came in the front door, put my keys in the dish on the entry hall table, and placed my briefcase on the floor in its usual spot leaning against a table leg. I had no plans to do any work, so that was where it would stay until morning. If I was planning on doing work, I would put it on the sofa in the den. Her briefcase is on the floor as well. Being a weeknight, it should have been open on the chair next to the hall table. She is always reading over one thing or another. I wondered what was up.

I peacefully walked to the kitchen doorway and stood quietly, watching her cut vegetables. Her brow was knit and her movements were sharp and distinct. I waited there quietly until I knew she was aware of my presence. I cannot lie, I was also buying time as part of my brain was trying to remember if I had forgotten something. She was clearly building a script in her mind. It was going round and round. With a script it is impossible to tell what is going on until she releases, and she does not release until I say something.

I have learned that it is stupid to fight a script when I have no idea what is going on. The best move is to listen and learn, and even if her issue is with me, and wrong, to just let the script play out to the end before deciding on a response. Fighting against the script only creates another layer to the problem.

It is kind of like being invaded by an army; if the people are not organized or have a plan, then there is no point in resisting. The invading army is organized and with a plan. It is impossible to fight order with chaos. As history shows, the best bet is always to allow the invaders to whatever they want, learning about them all the while; organizing and developing plans. And when their plans comes to an end and they consider themselves victorious, they will sink into tedious routine. That is when a people should begin to push back… if necessary.

I take a few steps forward an gently reach for a slice of green pepper from the dish. She stops slicing and I can see she is about to pop. I sit on a kitchen stool across the counter from her and say, “Hello.”

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