It began simply- an e-mail, short and to the point. In that way she began to exist on the fringes
of my mind. We exchanged polite
messages, sending them through cyberspace.
Soon those inquiries evolved into more intimate wonderings. “Do you want children some day?” “What do you think, as a teacher, about the
hypocrisy in our education system?”
The day we met in person, she also, solidly, arrived into
my life. Daily, we continued to write to
one another. Short “have a great day”
notes to lengthy “getting to know you MORE” essays. I would rush home from work, or a night out,
to check my inbox. My day never felt
complete unless I had read a few of her words, or heard her voice.
How I loved her voice.
We’d sit on the phone for hours, using up our prepaid phone cards from
7-11. I would lay on the floor of my
apartment and the tedium of my day would fade away with her words.
I began to love her.
The years flew by.
She saw me at my best and my most ugly. And she loved me. She told me that very soon after we started
dating and it scared me. I responded
with, “I can’t say that, yet.” Even
though, inside, I knew it to be true. I
was so worried about protecting myself, about being responsible and cautious,
that I made her wait for the feelings that were already there.
We talked about getting married, about standing in front
of our family and friends so that they could witness our promises of commitment. But there never seemed to be enough time,
enough money, enough reason to do something that wouldn’t even be legally
recognized.
Why did we want to get married? What would change between us? Would a piece of paper make us love each
other more?
Sometimes she makes fun of me, how I “love” everyone. And I want to explain to her what that
means. I love my friends in the most
simple definition of the word. I care
about them and they matter to my life.
With Rebeca, I love her in the most complex sort of way. Every decision I make, every plan I create,
she is a part of. Everything that
affects her, touches me. And vice versa. There is no Me,
or even a We, anymore. We’re an “US” with a capital U that now includes two little
girls. If there was a word that meant
more than “love” I would use that.
And now, 12 years later, we still aren’t married. We have two children, a mortgage and many
bills to pay. But we don’t have a piece
of paper that says that we belong to one another.
I still want that.
I want people to know that we have chosen to be
responsible for each other. I want to experience Every Day, with her. I want it
to be her hand that I’m holding when I leave this life. Along with being in love, we are our best
when we’re together.
What better reason to get married than that?


6 comments:
R and I were just talking about that piece of paper and what it represents. I love how you put it: "we have chosen to be responsible for each other." It says "we belong to one another."
You two are so dang cute! Love this post. :)
I agree. Doors it make a difference? Not necessarily on a grand scale, but I want that too. For real.
I'm a love everyone sort as well, which has led to no end of "discussions" in our marriage. Which we have. Even though we aren't officially allowed to have it. I can't wait for the day we get that paperwork and hey, we'll totally send you all a wedding gift!
I swear you were writing about me that first paragraph. (sigh)
:) ha ha
LOVED this post. Thank you for writing it. I could feel the love that you have for Rebecca and your girls. So very blessed with or without the paper. but of course I wish that you had the paper too.
Hell....can't you write the paper ? Aren't you the go to girl for weddings ? Didn't you offer to officiate my wedding one day ? ;-)
love this post!
Post a Comment