This is twenty-four…
Dearest love of mine,
Twenty four years ago, today, we were children playing dress up, at the very front of the most beautiful church we knew, while the world swarmed in chaos just beyond us.
I was a broken girl looking for someone to fix all of the damage which other broken people had done. Sadly, looking to a boy, barely older and no less damaged was unfair. It was not the right thing to do, but where my heart was concerned, it was genuine love.
I love you then, so incredibly.
I love you today, so much more, my husband.
So many full moons later, the scent of you still stirs my inner being and in every sad or absent moment, that connection which my spirit longs for, can only be found in you.
Sometimes it feels as if these struggles we’ve walked- the barren womb, the absent attendance around us, the hardships (the life ships, the adult ships, the titanic-sized-hurt ships) have often kept us just a reach beyond drowning…
But, my love, my lover, the keeper of the very best of me- When I think of any of the quick-sand-bits, the darkest shadows and the moments which were rusted-out-tear-stained and unfair, there is no one else whose hand I can fathom holding. There are no other eyes I want to search for anything outside of the bad, and no one else’s delectable smile I want to see the happiest rays in. There is no one else whose warmth, whose voice, whose deep-belly laughter speaks the language my heart sings to…
I am proud to be your telekinetic Pictionary partner, for now and always.
I’ll be there, till the stars don’t shine
‘Til the heavens burst and the words don’t rhyme
I know when I die you’ll be on my mind
And I’ll love you, always
My love, my husband, my Christopher, there is not another soul I want to wake up beside and if we were to manage one hundred and twelve more years together, (twelve- always twelve) it still wouldn’t be enough of you…
Thank you for sharing this journey. Thank you for growing with me, for accepting the gigantic mess that is me, and for being the very best of the best. Twenty four years and hindsight reflects the honesty that there has always been more beauty than sad. You are my heart, and I love you. The ugliest bits have been but nominal blips, fading father away, the moment they die. The good, the things which I am most grateful for-
that is the everywhere which remains.