A teacher asked if John and I would be willing to come speak in her classroom. We have done this before and enjoyed it. I mentioned it to a friend, who was surprised. 

"You agreed before asking John?" Clearly, she had taken offense on his behalf. 

It rattled me a bit, but I mumbled that he would be fine with it. Perhaps an assumption like that would be a boundary breaker in her marriage, but in mine it is not. 

Forty-four years is a chunk of history, and there are short cuts that show up. When I was fumbling with twin babies, I did not need to ask permission before handing one off to him. If a child needed a ride late at night I knew John would handle it, rather than me. When they became the drivers, and had an accident, it was obvious to everyone that Dad would be the voice of calm. 

I like to believe that there are areas in which John knows that he can rely on me. Babies in the night were my turf, because I breastfed. When we launch a marriage group, the inviting falls on me. Christmas gifts appear under the tree because of my preparations, as do the cards in the mail. 

I respect the friend whose feathers were ruffled by my cavalier comment. We do need to give people freedom. But at some point freedom melts into knowing.