After 25 years I've gotten used to his body language. I can tell when this man is in a great mood, and I can also tell when something heavy is on his mind. I know when he's happy, and I know when he's mad. He doesn't have to say a word for me to read him. In fact he doesn't even have to turn and face me. I sense the mood.
It was everything, from the way he carried his body, to the swiftness of each step that moved me to ask him, "Is something wrong, Michael?"
"You even have to ask?!" he snapped back at me. "After the way you spoke to me earlier, you shouldn't be surprised at all that I'm angry."
I sat there for a minute thinking about a conversation we had just an hour before. It wasn't that I was rude--at least I didn't think so. I had simply expressed the fact that I was disappointed. We had just come back from a gathering during which time we barely spoke two words to each other. Pulled in two different directions he spent time with the guys and I with the girls. I understand that this happens a lot. And I certainly don't expect Michael to walk a three legged race with me, but barely two words? When I go out with my husband, I want to spend time with him.
[Read the rest of the article at The Time-Warp Wife.]