I have never been on the end of a cross cut saw, though I have good memories of see saws, a playground device from the last century. The ditty we recited was the slightest bit snippy.

 

"Buster Brown, let me down."

 

"What will you give me?"

 

Then the person whose sneakers were dangling in the air had to come up with a juicy, if imaginary, offer to entice the kid on the ground to push off, and then it was her turn to bargain. 

 

"I will give you a hundred chocolate cupcakes." Bang, the see saw swiveled and what was up was now down. 

 

My twins Hope and Aurelle have this cooperation gig down to a science. 

 

"I will get our toothbrushes, and you can clear our dishes. OK?"

 

"Can you carry the backpacks while I make us toast?"

 

It reminds me of the dance classes I took in high school. The jitterbug was my favorite, which involved a push-while-you-pull arrangement. I always preferred it to dancing alone. My brother would twirl me around the living room while the record player blared out the Beach Boys. 

 

 

We went out to lunch with friends today, and they talked about how their marriage has weathered the storms of 32 years. One of the rhythms of their relationship has been a willingness to take turns falling apart. If she is venting about money or the kids, he stays calm. If he is worried about his job or the car, she keeps her mouth shut. It works.  

 

I suppose there are ways to chop down trees, and cut the rug and get your own toast without help. But taking turns keeps us connected in a way that autonomy never can.

Photo by Jenny Stein

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