In Sickness...

When you're in a long-distance relationship, every weekend becomes a mini-vacation for one half of the couple.

My fiancee and I live about 90 minutes away from each other. I don't know if I would classify it as officially long-distance, as we're close enough to meet halfway midweek, but it is far enough for one of us to pack up and leave home for a few days just to spend the weekend with the other.

Kelly, honestly, does most of the legwork. She's been a real trooper about coming out 3 of the 4 weeks of the month to stay at my place while I go sleep at my parents'. It's not that my area of town is any nicer than hers (both of us pretty much live in pretty crappy towns, to be honest), but that I have family close by that I can stay with when she comes in to town.

When I go out to her neck of the woods, it means a motel rental. My adventures at the Motel 6 will one day be fodder for future entries, but for now I only mention it because it's pertinent to why I travel a bit less than Kelly during our weekends together.

This weekend was my weekend to go out to her, and I was looking forward to it being nice, relaxing and quiet. We were going to look at an apartment, spend the afternoon at a cider mill and then enjoy a weekend of drinking coffee, watching movies and having some nice conversation.

Then, the Michigan weather changed. It had been pushing 90 degrees all week and then, with one snap on Friday night, plunged into the 50s. My body usually reacts harshly when the weather goes from cold to warm in the Spring. Kelly's, I found out, wreaks havoc on her when the temperatures plunge.

We met up at a coffee shop in Ann Arbor, as we had planned, because she had spent the morning running some bridal errands. We did have a chance to view an apartment, but I could tell she was not feeling well. Her voice was ravaged, she was constantly blowing her nose and I could see in her eyes that she was a bit weak. We spent maybe 10 minutes at the cider mill and left because her cold made it impossible for her to taste the cider or doughnuts (which is a shame: they were delicious).

I don't know how other people react when they're sick, but I tend to nurse myself in isolation. I confine myself to my bed or couch and depend on a therapeutic regimen of Nyquil, naps and television. I could tell that Kelly was exhausted and I suggested on more than one occasion that I could leave and she could sleep.

The truth was, I was very worried that she was going out and keeping me there out of obligation. I knew she probably felt bad that I had driven 90 miles and rented a motel room and now I wasn't going to get to have much fun. I was basically going to be a caretaker. I wasn't going to get to enjoy the cider and doughnuts with her (and I wasn't going to sit there drinking cup after cup in front of her), it hurt her to talk and I knew that she'd need to go to bed early.

And had it been any one else blowing into a Kleenex, coughing violently or talking with that rasp, I would have been frustrated and probably picked up and left. But every time I asked her if I should leave, I was happy when she said no, she wanted me to stay. I was more than happy to go to Meijer and buy some Vicks for her. I had a great time lying on the couch with her and watching "Fantastic Mr. Fox" or "Arrested Development" episodes. I didn't mind the fact that I had to retire to Motel 6 at 10:30 p.m. and spent the rest of the night reading in bed with a bottle water and bag of beef jerky at my side. And this afternoon when I knew that she was in need of a good, long nap, I knew exactly when to pick up my keys and head home.

The truth is, that I'm learning there's something so much deeper to relationship than simply having a good time. Yes, I always love the nights when we can go to the movies or the weekends where we take trips together. I love when we stay up late talking or debating. I love it when we're being romantic and sappy and all caught up in this whole "love thing."

But I've watched couples. I've read books. I've lived life. I know that the romantic feelings aren't around 24/7. And yes, I've always wondered what it would be like in a relationship to live through those moments where neither person is feeling particularly "in love."

And being around Kelly, I've learned that these "normal moments" are some of my favorite in my life because of the sheer surprise I've seen in myself. I'm not by nature a selfless person--I like my routines to be uninterrupted, things to go my way and life to be happy.

But with Kelly, I've seen myself actually want to take care of another person. It was not a chore to go to Meijer and pick up Vap-O-Rub for her. It was not torture for me to sit across from her at Panera in silence because I knew how much it pained her to talk. I felt at home sitting on the couch with her watching TV and even though I couldn't kiss her on the lips when I left, I still felt a peck on the cheek was meaningful for us.

It wasn't the first time I've noticed this surprising reaction in myself. I know for a fact that Kelly hates making the drive out to my house on Friday nights, when she's worked all day and has to fight rush hour traffic to get out there. Sometimes she's not in the best of moods upon pulling into the driveway. And to be honest, I used to have a bit of dread about this because, as I said, I like people to be happy all the time.

A few weeks ago, however, she had to come out on a Friday night and I knew the drive was going to be horrible. And I found myself asking what I could do to make her feel easier when she arrived. So I chilled a bottle of water and walked out with it when she arrived and then came inside and gave her a long hug once she was in.

It's a stupid, little thing. But it surprises me. It surprises me because I'm finding that meeting her needs--even something as trivial as that--is meeting a need in myself as well. I never realized just how much I wanted to take care of someone, to be the one to make them smile after a rough day or just make them feel a little less alone and isolated when they're sick. Meeting all those little practical needs and doing those little non-romantic things may not be what we all dream of when we're single and looking for a relationship.

But to be honest, those little moments are some of the most meaningful to me and the kind that show me just how much I love this woman and how she's changing me.

And that's got to be a good thing, right? After all, I'm expecting life to be filled with a lot more runny noses and long car rides than late night walks and candlelit dinners. And don't these little moments, which require a bit of sacrifice and inconvenience on our part, show love a lot more than a large gesture which we both enjoy?

--CW