That evening, he started preparing dinner while I sat in the living room reading a book.
When he asked how long the potatoes needed to cook, I answered without getting up.
He smiled.
Three months have passed.
Robert still works outside the home. I still do my share of the housework.
But now he cooks several evenings a week, handles his own laundry, and takes responsibility for cleaning and shopping.
We still have disagreements. Thirty-eight years of habits don’t disappear overnight.
But he hasn’t called me useless again.
Last Sunday, our children came for dinner.
When Emily complimented the meal, Robert said something I’d never heard him say before.
“Your mother spent decades making this home comfortable for all of us. I should have thanked her a long time ago.”
I looked down at my plate because my eyes were filling with tears.
Later, while washing the dishes together, he turned to me.
