Marriage

 I did it again.  I went down the marriage rabbit hole, but this time, I’m not fighting alone.  I’m not doing it by myself.  I have a partner, a friend, a confidante.  I listen.  He listens.  We share.

But I miss the beginning.  The moments you were thrilled and nervous and excited to see each other.  Where the anticipation of a kiss sent every nerve ending ablaze and the butterflies in your stomach had the most amazing dance of colours and movements in your stomach.  The eagerness to be held by one another.  It didn’t matter what you were doing…just as long as it was together.

4 years later.  The love is still there.  It’s grown stronger.  It’s different.  You’re both different.  It’s been one hell of a battle over the last 4 years.  You’ve suffered financial hits, friendships lost over stupidity (your name is Michelle…I will not forget or forgive) job losses, some by interference of others, some by choice.  You have suffered through so much sickness and hospital visits.  You had a baby together.  You still live in the basement of his parents house but you’ve taken over and made it beautiful…to the best that you can.

As the wife, I suffer your frustration.  I suffer your sadness.  I suffer.  I choose to.  Not that I enjoy it, but it’s different with you.  It’s not a burden.  It’s a choice.  I choose to support you, because for once in my life…I feel valued and appreciated.  Wanted.  Loved.  Needed.

I wish there was more though.  Isn’t that awful?  I want the physicality of our bodies uniting, and not just in sleep. I miss our carefree days.  Our honeymoon.  Our passion.  It’s gone.  It’s been gone for over a year.  Kissing two.  I’m changing.  Physically.  Not by choice.  I just want to be loved in this body one more time before it’s filled with plastic and saline and parts are irrevocably removed forever.  Because this is not a choice for me.  It’s a demand.  

4 years.  I just want to be loved physically again before and it all changes.  But that is life.  Change is inevitable.  I’m pushing forward.  I’m prepared for disappointment.  Because I’m selfish.  I admit it.  And I don’t care.  My body. My husband.  My want.  Mine.  

I regret nothing.