My husband and I used to have wonderfully engaging, and often silly, conversations. I remember one road trip along the northern Oregon coast when we created a business plan to sell galoshes for cows to dairy farmers to protect their herds from annual flooding. Between the chuckles, we decided optional cow floaters had to be available too. This was when he was still able to be behind the wheel so the conversation and the drive were very much a shared experience. It’s a memory I treasure. Now, I am the chauffeur and our drives are much quieter, our lives in general are much quieter. We still try to open conversations, commenting on things we might see on the news or read in the paper, but it is happening less every day.

I know that part of the reason we talk less is that we have been together for more than 20 years and, especially during the pandemic, not much new is happening to us. I also believe that the act of holding down a conversation has become more difficult for my husband. He has told me before that the words form in his brain but getting them to come out of his mouth is a challenge. Since it takes more time and effort, he holds out for important communication, not just the everyday stuff.

As he talks less, I find that I am talking more as if I can fill the void with words. But that is exhausting and often meaningless. Instead, I need to understand and accept that life can be quiet, we don’t need to talk all the time. We can still have conversations to make sure that he is practicing his speech and cognitive skills, but galoshes for cows? That is one for the memory books.