You know how every Valentines I pour my heart out on a card for you? Well here it is. The card I mean. The pouring out comes next.
Dear love: I really don't know what possessed me to address you this way but your private self will have to deal with it. Lately, this blog has been absorbing pieces of me. In this partial repository I speak some of our son, more of myself and hardly any of you. There's a reason for that which you know - your own personal request. Before I continue further, I'll have you know that I am honoring it even as I write. This is not about you, but about us and I want to, for this one time, perhaps not the last time depending on how this goes down, tell of you and me.
Eight years into knowing you, more than six of them loving you, I do not know what our future holds. This envisioning puts me in mind of what Alejandra A. once told me about that couple who were friends of hers and who'd been happily married for years and years. One time, when she asked them what the secret of their marital bliss was, the woman looked at her husband and said: We take it one day at a time and turn that day into another. When I first heard A.A. tell this story, I remember that I didn't even know you but I perked my ears because all girls with dreams of happily ever afters listen up when tried and true advice about good marriages is freely handed out. So I listened and afterwards, I was disappointed with what I heard. There was no magical formula there. No deep epiphany to fathom. I wondered, was that it?
As a witness to the longevity of my parent's own marriage, I can tell you many things about what works for them but I'm not, and was never such an ingenue, that I didn't understand how one person's recipe could end up as something completely different in someone else's pot. Still, I thought, there had to be a step process, there had to be a set of directions, a universal something that would tell the heart, my heart, how to go forward when the time for me came.
Happy every day jan.