Early this morning I drove my husband to the airport, and as I write he is nodding his head and dozing as he sits, cramped, in a Continental Airlines seat, headed for San Francisco.

He needs a break. He is worn out with mounting bills, a full teaching schedule (with trumpet students whose playing makes him put cotton in his ears), late payments and upkeep of ten rental units, and constant movement of boarders and adult children through our home. Worry wears him out. Irritation at other people wears him out. And, sometimes, marriage wears him out.

But mostly, worries about money wear him out.

So he is flying to California on a free ticket, picking up an economy rental car (my Christmas gift to him, along with gas money), and staying for free with various family members along the California coast--Santa Cruz, Santa Barbara, Santa Monica. He will float around for a week in balmy weather (please God), enjoy spectacular coastal scenery, play as much solitaire as he likes on his laptop, and try not to get irritated at all our relatives.

I am staying home, making meals for the students who board with us, cleaning toilets, sweeping floors, and meeting writing deadlines. We often vacation separately and shrug our shoulders at family and friends who look disapproving or suspicious. Yes, we like to get away together, but sometimes we just can't afford it. And the partings and reunitings are sweet.

However, when it's my husband's turn to vacation alone, I have to beg him not to worry. "What will it do for you? Can you name one benefit, one good thing your worrying will accomplish? All it will do is ruin your vacation, and not accomplish anything else. So let it go! Don't worry while you're out there!"

He will still worry, of course. He will sit overlooking the gentle Pacific, calm and blue and glistening in sunshine, stretching out to vast distance beyond eyesight and thought. He will look at this and worry about the cost of new furnaces and reroofing and plumbing repairs. And I will, in my weaker moments at home in the frozen Midwest, worry about his worrying. I worry that his worrying will rob him of well-earned pleasure and of being in the moment.

My Boss says simply, "Do not worry about your life. Period." Sometimes I think that I am better at listening to the Boss than my husband is. So I will give up, on the first day of this new year, worrying about my husband's tendency to worry. Instead, I will trust. I am being taken care of. He is being taken care of. I can see where worry and trust cannot go hand in hand. I choose trust. I pray that my husband will choose this also.

We can be together in that.