I’ve always believed that somebody ought to write a book about the film business. I don’t mean how it works, or what impact it has on the economy or what the various stages of production really are, and I don’t mean anything at all to do with Hollywood stars. We already have lots of those. 

I mean that somebody ought to put together a chatty little tell-all from the point of view of the beleaguered spouse - those of us men and women who keep the home fires burning while our partners abandon all domestic reality from time to time for the adrenaline, creativity and fairly substantial paycheques that the business can provide. I am talking about the flip side of the mad rush to camera, the undocumented back story, the numerous little sub-plots that nobody has time to notice except those of us who inhabit the roles.

At the moment, quite true to established pattern, this particular film spouse has a cold. It is not a country cold that snuck up on me during the week,  but the same vicious cold that has been making the rounds on the production that has taken Sasha to the city for the past month or so, the production that lends me back his exhausted carcass once in awhile for so-called “days off” during which he will either work, obsess about working, or pass out mid-sentence from sheer fatigue. Bringing home a cold is just part of the territory.

When he is here, of course he will do his best to give me an account of his adventures and ask me for the news of my week. He will also do his utmost not to nod off when all the words I’ve saved up for the occasion suddenly come spilling out of me in an almost deranged monologue because our daily phone calls have become so brief and perfunctory, revolving around call times and menu selections and whether he has been able to get any sleep. 

Even words like “I love you," when they get spoken at all, sound like memorized lines from a script. For both of us, loving the other person at all during the making of a film is hard work, sometimes seeming like just another job to be added to an already formidable list. He is simply too bushed at this point to reach out to anyone except in the line of duty and I am too seasoned a warrior to ask for more attention than he has the wherewithal to give. I resent this at times, it is true. Somehow, we both try our best to stay connected in a dance we have been practicing for years.

When he has settled in, I know I can count on him to ask about each of the animals, make time to take care of anything that might have broken in his absence, tweak my technology if required, and climb the steep ladder to the hayloft to throw down enough hay for the sheep and llamas to do for the coming week. The man stuff. 

He knows that I will cook and serve food and that I will do everything I can to keep the outside world at bay. There are no social engagements. If something doesn’t need his attention it won't get mentioned. I will keep it to myself. He doesn't need the pressure and I'm an old hand at coping on my own.

The name of the game is to maintain at any cost the equilibrium that holds us together as a couple yet enables him to make it through the shoot. Even when he is here, the truth is that I am alone and I will be alone until wrap. I learned long ago that each week until then, on those mythical "days off," less and less of him will come home to me intact. It is what it is and I have to accept it.

That said, while my partner in crime is immersed in the grueling demands of making make-believe, I have ringside seats to the arrival of Spring. What I am living here is both joyous and real.

Whatever extra work I might have to do doesn’t consume fourteen hours of the day. I get plenty of sleep in my own bed and have time that is all mine to spend (or even squander) as I please. I have total control over the budget, nobody gives me directions, and if my call sheet changes without notice and I suddenly have to "wing it," the possible consequences are minor because it's usually been my own choice.

Even with the dubious and inevitable "gift" of yet another miserable film business cold, I am still the one who has it easy.

And he will be home again soon.