Now I understood that responsibility had been distributed very differently when I wasn’t looking.
My husband had laughed before leaving for vacation and told me that a little hard work would be good for me.
Standing there with dirt on my hands, my parents beside me, my children carrying corn, and his mother’s card in my pocket, I finally understood what the hard part actually was.
It wasn’t the harvest.
It was refusing to keep financing a version of my marriage that only worked when I didn’t know the full price.
