I like to listen to NPR and he prefers the Christian channel. So begins the dial game of his station/her station. Because the compact is older than our high school senior the light behind the number is more faded than my mother's wedding photos. Hence many mornings I am scurrying along Welsh Road while randomly pushing buttons trying to find WHYY. Let's not pursue the question of why I don't find it before releasing the emergency brake. That would require more forethought than is generally available after corralling a reluctant boy with autism through the door with a coat, socks and shoes. 

 

What I am embarrassed about however is the emotion that flutters around the ritual. 

 

Benjamin watches me scramble every morning, probably without an opinion about the channel. He would rather be in Anna where we have a cd player and he can zoom to his current favorite, John Michael Talbot singing prayers. 

 

I have often wondered why John does not return the radio to my channel when he gets home at night. But until now it never occurred to me to switch it back to his choice before the trade off. 

 

I think today I will surprise him. He needs the religion. 

 

 

Photo by Stephen Conroy

you can support us at

www.caringformarriage.org