Go Hawks! . . . I Beg Of You

My husband and I have been married for 23 years. We have had what I hesitate to say (but here I go) is the normal amount of ups and downs. Most recently, in the past three years, we have gone through, and managed to survive, my sudden blindness, the illness and loss of my mom, his sudden serious heart condition and the sudden loss of his dad.

But I don’t know if we will make it through this current football season.

I love football too, but as of week 2, my husband’s fantasy team and his beloved Seattle Seahawks are 0-2. He has been a 12 since I met him, but with the recent success of the Hawks, expectations are newly high in my household, which means the fall is more dangerous . . . to me. I liked it when the bar was set low, way low.

My even-keeled and super laid-back husband becomes someone else each weekend, and I’m pretty sure I did not marry THIS guy. I remember the richer and poorer part (check) and in sickness and in health (double check), but not through wins and losses.

I can honestly say we have come out the other side of the deaths and our illnesses listed above stronger, but Super Bowl XLIX, held seven months ago, still hangs over our heads like a dark Seattle rain cloud. In this house, February 1st. 2015 is the day the music died. As well as the laughter. And any mention of the New England Patriots. Or Katy Perry.

I wanted to tie this blog post up with a blue and green bow (yes, I have been brainwashed), but after struggling to do so over the last few hours, I finally figured out why I am unable to end this the way I normally would.


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