Thursday, March 31, 2011
Posted by Maggie May Labels: scenes from a marriage
Because you say the wrong thing quite often, but almost never to me. I'm always beautiful, never stupid, never fat, never less than any other woman, always trying to do the right thing- in your eyes I am the best version of myself and because you see me this way I am a better person than I would have been, and much better looking, too.
You learned how to put aside your fears and comfort me when I am afraid. I learned how to put aside my sadness and comfort you when you are sad. We learned together that the simplest rule is crucial for marriage: take turns.
Then we learned if you absolutely can't take turns, don't tear each other to shreds when you're trapped in the same cage. We're all in this together.
Your ass is awesome. It's fresh.
Once you made your way to an underpass and gave a man and a woman all the money in your wallet.
You take baths all the time. I knock on the door and you laugh and me and ask why I'm knocking on the door. I reply you could be masturbating! pooping! and you laugh again, the pages of your book wet, your face kind and attentive. You say What's up, sweetie. I love the way you say What's up, sweetie. I love that you never make me feel like I'm interrupting you. Even though when I'm on the computer, I can't say the same.
When I'm dying I hope I get to hear you talking to me. I hope I hear your voice.
You made Ever Elizabeth with me.
I want to take Lola to Disneyland, you told me, just the two of us.
We've been married 8 years and haven't run out of things to talk about. You're my person,
you tell me. And you are mine.