Got Corn? Got Tim

Kim planted a seed yesterday morning. She asked me if I would write a slice about Tim. Many of the slicers I “recruited” to join the challenge this year know him in person or through the stories I share about him. I can’t think of a day at work when I don’t talk about my [high school teacher] husband.

I searched my camera roll for “slice-worthy” images but found too many. I don’t do well with too many choices. Then I remembered the old videos I had saved from our last year in Cairo! Darlyn and I watched a few until I found the slice of life I wanted to relive through writing. She suggests I slice about our relationship’s timeline and various geographic locations, but that would be too many slices.

Go back to June 2020 with me.

It’s a warm and dry afternoon in Maadi. The streets are mostly quiet. In Cairo, quiet isn’t normal.

I place the phone on a pile of books to elevate it a bit (I didn’t have a tripod then) and press the record button. Tim and I sit on the floor, looking at ourselves on the tiny screen. I don’t remember whether I explained to him what we were about to do; all he knew was that we would play a little game to share with my 3rd-grade students so they could play with their families during lockdown.

It’s weird to hear the tone in my voice—way too cheerful for the times we were in. My hair is shorter, layered, and lighter—shades of red I often miss. I wear my Ms. Ana red T-shirt, and he wears his Got Corn?, ready to play along for my students.

That’s Tim for you. He’s always got your back.

After I explain the game rules to the recording device staring at us, I start us off. The goal of the game is to mimic one’s hand motions and come up with different actions that could match the movement. I grip my fists and begin moving both hands forward and backward in a patterned motion. The exchange begins:

Tim asks first, “What are you doing?” 

I respond, “I’m on a bicycle. What are you doing?” 

He says, “I’m riding a motorcycle. What are you doing?”

“I’m squeezing a towel. What are you doing? I continue.

He hesitates for a second and then says, “I… am… rowing very badly.”

I laugh, we exchange funny looks, and try to extend the game a bit longer. I turn back to the phone, talking to my students and encouraging them to find at least one more person at home to have a good laugh today.

When Kim asked me to write a slice about Tim, the first thought I had was laughter. He and I laugh every single day, and I wonder how I got so lucky. That’s Tim—funny, creative, flexible, caring, devoted, smart, and silly. The best partner for every game life throws at me. I never want to stop playing.