Not too terribly recently (but not so long ago) something pierced my heart, and in fearful defense, I locked her away in a heavy cage.

I held on to anger.

I let fear and doubt grow strong and high, in thorny bush and tangling brambles.  I saw the deadly brush thriving, and turned my eye, rather than cutting it down, as I should.  It grew thicker and tighter around the cage of my heart until almost no light could break through.  The more time passed, the less I even noticed it.

Her wounds too painful to see, even through the dense and thorny vines, I did not visit.  With no warmth from another allowed through the thick canopy I had allowed to flourish, she grew colder, ever colder.  No longer feasting on love (she deserved), comfort (she desired), the heart inside me grew weak, famished.  She beat dimly for a great time; my body kept grinding mechanically through the motions of necessary life.

So hungry was she that, when something found its way through the tangling cover to her living tomb, she questioned it not, but absorbed it fully, wanting to consume, to be warmed.  A fine and lovely trickery, this black ink was, but not the warmth she needed.  And where had I been?  It was my job to protect her, and I allowed her to be exposed to this clever poison.

Only when forcibly lead through the darkness by another was I able to realize how absent I had been, what I had relinquished so easily.  He gave me the strength I needed to bring down those brambles and vines, though the process was painful, and many thorns drew blood from us both.

I am excellent at building cages, walls.  I am a great grower of the thorny vine.  I hold tight to anger. I harbor fear.

I’ve struggled with being truly loved.  I’ve allowed circumstances to make me doubt it possible.  That is changing in me.

I have slowly, this year, let go of the fear of being loved.

And it is warm in this light.

Reverb 10 is an annual event and online initiative to reflect on your year and manifest what’s next. Use the end of your year as an opportunity to reflect on what’s happened, and to send out reverberations for the year ahead.

What the hell, Raw Honey…

YOU’RE EMPTY?

Why would you toy with me so, Raw Honey? Why would you sit there, practically beckoning to me with your sweet, delicious Raw Honeyness… and then… and then… be… EMTPY?

How cruel you are, Raw Honey!

How. Very. Cruel.  You have hurt me deeply, Raw Honey.

*deep, heavy sobs*

What is that you say, Raw Honey?  You mean, you didn’t do this to me on purpose?  You say it was beyond your control, Raw Honey?  You were just sitting there, being Raw Honey and someone came along and emptied all the delicious Raw and sweet Honey inside of you out?

You are telling me that someone scraped you clean, selfishly enjoying every last drop of you, Raw Honey?  Someone didn’t share you, but just ate you all in private?  Someone ELSE did this to you and then PUT. YOU. BACK?

Just to fool me?

What is that you say, Raw Honey? Yes, Raw Honey, you are right, I *am* feeling rather stabby.

Don’t worry, Raw Honey.  I’ll get even.  I make all the meals around here after all, right, Raw Honey? People eat what I prepare, without question.

Hahahaha.

What is that, Raw Honey? You say there’s a funny tone to my laugh?  Oh, Raw Honey, just ignore that.  Everything is just fine.  I am in a peaceful state, don’t you worry.  Just overlook the strange new element in my laughter, Raw Honey.  I promise, I’m okay.  You just rest.  Shhh, shhhh, now, Raw Honey.

Someone else better watch his Raw Honey Thieving, Trickin’ a Bitch Ass, though, Raw Honey.

But you?  You just sleep now, Raw Honey. Shhhh.

Shhhhhhh.

Let’s say HYPOTHETICALLY that I was sitting on the couch watching TV. I’m watching, ohhhh, let’s say Big Bang Theory.

Then, what if John, my husband, came downstairs, grabbed the remote, and started flipping channels. WHILE THE SHOW WAS ON, NOT DURING A COMMERCIAL.

Would you think that it would be overreacting for me to FREAK THE HELL OUT and start snatching at the remote? How about if he gave me a shitty look and then both refused to let me have it back and did NOT return to the channel and show I was enjoying before he entered the room like some kind of Assholian Dictator?

If this kind of a scenario, or you know, something like it, happened, then would it be kind of over the top if I lost my shit and yelled, “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!??” while visualizing myself strangling him until his lips turned blue and fell off? Would that just be too much?

I mean, it is only television after all. What do you think?

You know, I’m just wondering, in case something like that ever actually happens and I had the strong urge to beat my husband about the face relentlessly with the remote once I finally did snatch it back.

This way, I’ll know if it’s justified or not.

Thank you for your time.

When I’m asked what Christmas gift I remember the most, this ring is the first image that surfaces in my mind. One of the most beautiful opals I have ever seen sits like a regal queen atop a shining, golden band. On each side of her, like ladies in waiting, is a tiny diamond, twinkling playfully.

I am not obsessive about jewelry. I appreciate things of beauty, and with these types of decoration I tend to gravitate towards simplicity.

I had never before received expensive jewelry from a lover. I had never really desired it, to be honest. Regardless of that, I found this piece perfect. When I opened the box, I was floored and pleased.

It is beauty, basic and true. I loved it immediately, and still do.

A person special to me worried over the selection of this ring. He had labored over this choice, and this ring had spoken to him.

While it is certainly true that the ring is stunning, that is not why it is my most memorable gift. There is magic in my memory of this gift, but it is not because I received the ring on Christmas day.

The real magic lies in what it later became – an engagement ring. The man who painstakingly chose that gift for me did not know that later I would switch the hand on which the Queen Opal rode, as promise to marry him.

My most memorable Christmas gift was a pretty, shiny adornment that later transformed into a symbol of love, basic and true.

Beautiful.

******

Today’s post is my answer to The Gift, a writing challenge at {W}rite-of-Passage.

The following people took the challenge, too.

Don’t even think about sharing that pudding with him – you know it will go right to your old gut.

Your hair might be thinning… don’t worry, you’re going to get more and more of it in your nose and ears to make up for this.  Your back hurts, but I’m here to distract you from that by demanding that you rub mine (and don’t forget my feet)!  I am just that loving.

And yes, I might feel the need to make endless jokes about you being old just because you turn 40 today.

It’s because I love you.  And I’m glad you’ve been around for this long, and I’m hoping to make fun of how freaking old you are for so very much longer.

You are a wonderful (old ass) daddy and fabulous (decrepit, aging) husband.  Hey – look at it this way:  When men age, society kindly chooses to say that they are developing a bald head and a fat gut character and charm.  Women?  Get slow, fat and grow a beard.  Maybe don’t worry so much about your aging – it’s mine you might want to start being concerned about.  *wink*

Be careful on the road and hobble home as soon as you can.  I will miss your old ass from afar for now, you wonderful, old fart.

Happy 40th Birthday!

Love,
Your hot, young wife.