Hi there. Sunshine here. I’m climbing up from the depths of post-op recovery because, well, for a few reasons. One, because I missed you. Two, forcing oneself to sit still, with minimal laughter–which hurts, lifting–which hurts and transitioning from sitting to standing–which, you guessed it, hurts is HARD.


And for another reason, this guy here–this flower-bringin, dinner cooking, heavy-stuff-liftin’, hard-workin, dead-sexy dude deserves the biggest possible thank you from me.

If I am sunshine, he is sky.

Beside childrearing, partnership is the most natural hardcore undertaking we do as humanfolk. It’s universal, running the gambit from arranged marriages to polygamy; high society or lower class doesn’t matter: people get together. When we walk down the aisle, jump the broom, whathaveyou, there’s no way of knowing what waits at the end of your timeline. Anything can happen.

Through sickness and in health…

The emphasis on your wedding day isn’t on the sickness. And even when I said sickness I envisioned influenza, pneumonia…anything besides the very stark reality that I couldn’t stand up alone. That I had to pee and–if it was anything like the last one was, excruciating pain was in my future. That my poor husband–after working a full day, cooking all the meals and cleaning all our messes–would need to physically pull my legs around, set my feet down, take me up by the arms like a baby, follow every painful step as I cried wept, undress and hug me-bearing my weight-into a seated position, leave whilst business was handled and then return to lift and accompany me back to bed, lifting my feet, fluffing the pillows, bringing me ice, timing the pain meds, and keeping me hydrated.

Well I just don’t know. Even as I lay here, truly pathetic I was am in absolute awe at his love. I’m still searching for a gesture large enough to adequately represent my gratitude, but then he reminded me of something. He had surgery months before me and I had already done the exact same thing for him.


I mean, it definitely was a memorable time, but nothing in my mind’s eye is even close to the burden I feel like I’ve been. What I remember most is that it was several days in a row that we got to be together. Harry Potter marathon. Infinite cuddles. None of the lifting, cleaning, running up and down stairs I’m so aware of now that he’s doing it for me.

We don’t have a surplus of money, student loans and bills mount, plus rent in Seattle is stupid, and our savings is exactly one hill of beans currently, but having someone there when you are at the lowest of the low, taking impeccable care of you, is to feel truly rich. thankyouthankyouthankyou 

Despite some complications such as tearing incisions, rashes and sharp pain, I’m feeling much better. Back to work, but moving much slower than usual. No heavy lifting or running for three months. The whole stupid gorgeous Washington summer, basically. Mope, mope.

But I’m in good hands.

Brianna Wray Signature

Author: Brianna Wray

I'm an artist in Seattle just living the dream.


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