Ascendant

It feels funny writing that title for this post. Considering I've spent the last week laid low by one of the worst bouts of illness I've had in quite sometime. Sick to the tune of a 10 day course of antibiotics. That hasn't happened in 10 years.

I am a hearty cowboy.

But this past weekend I was miserable. Now, I'm not a whiner by any stretch. I keep pretty much to myself when it comes to being sick. I always have. That's primarily because I am a caretaker. I help those in need and try not to impose on people when I'm ill. It has always been my way.

With the men in my life, when they were sick I was the epitome of a mother hen. I would fuss, cater, facilitate every need, whim, desire, fancy they might have. If it would make them feel even the slightest bit better, I would undertake any task to that end.

I could not always expect the same in return.

I was not bitter about this, I knew well in advance that many of them did not share the same trait. I never saw this as a flaw, rather just part of who they were. Something to be accepted and forgotten, lest it stew into some potent malicious brew that would later be hurled back at them in resentment. Besides it always fit well with my "I don't want to be a bother" attitude when I did get sick.

I had a much different experience this past weekend. Mark came to visit and as has been our way since the "rekindling" we'd packed the weekend full of things to do. This included meeting my siblings, their significant others, and my youngest brother's three amazing daughters. So of course I have to pop a fever to steal his spotlight.

I can be such a diva.

Mark was amazing. Nursing me. Indulging my "oh my God I'm sick let's watch a movie" fetish. Fetching me tea. Opening lozenges. Warming soup. Taking me to the Pharmacy to pick up my medication. Moving the truck so I wouldn't have to walk as far once the medicine was secured.
Did I mention that he enlisted my brother's help in moving the rest of the things from the old house that I was too sick to move? That he made several trips with my father? That he did all of this without any prompting, hinting, cajoling, "honey-would-you-mind"-ing?

At all.

None.

My mother commented this morning, "Mijo, no one has taken care of you like Mark. No one". Mamita you have no idea.

Zero, nada, ningun.

She does know the whole story now. I shared Mark's and my star crossed past with her the weekend before last, prior to Mark's first stay here with me. Mom is always pre-disposed to like the men I've brought home simply because she loves me unconditionally and wants me to be happy. The pre-disposition to favor hasn't always survived the initial meeting but as is her way she is always unfailingly kind and cordial. She shared her concerns about my past beaus in private with the deferrential "...but Mijo, it's your life. You need to live it for you."

Yet in two visits, Mark has achieved two landmarks that both of my exes took more than a year to reach and neither attained both goals. First, my mother has already given him a nickname and second, my father has become a chatterbox with him. Both convey a level of comfort with Mark, my choice in partners, that my folks had up until now only shown with my brother's significant others.

It's been a deluge of blessings as of late. I am grateful beyond measure.

Beyond words.