The day before Jason’s birthday, I slipped on our icy porch and broke my arm, an accident I had tried to prevent by asking him to clear the steps. He dismissed my concern, and the fall sent me to the hospital instead of work. When I returned home in a heavy cast, I expected sympathy. What I received was irritation.
Jason’s first question wasn’t about my pain or recovery. He wanted to know how his birthday party would happen now that I was injured. In that moment, years of imbalance became painfully clear. Every celebration, every gathering, every detail had always been my responsibility, no matter my condition.
