Tuesday, February 15, 2011

My husband.

I don't remember much about being a little girl, but I do remember my husband.

I had no idea what he looked like, nor could I even imagine what he might possibly look like except I always assumed he would be tall. I was tall, even then, so it made sense that he would be too. He had to match me.

He would work and I would stay home and raise children who were, for some reason, very blond. He would make the money at his Very Important Job and not be around much, and I would do...well, everything else. I don't even remember if he was very romantic or even loved me at all. I just know he existed. I was as certain of him as I've ever been of anything.

I don't remember thinking about my husband a lot as I got older, until I married a guy who was most certainly not supposed to be him. I spent a lot of time waiting for things to get better, for this man who wasn't my husband to suddenly become my husband, and I know I felt bewildered and hurt when they didn't. When he didn't.

Then I was alone, for a while. And alone was really okay. Really. Apart from having very little adult conversation, it was actually pretty nice. I could watch whatever I wanted on television and have whatever I wanted for dinner. I never had to worry about what anyone else wanted and frankly? I kind of liked it.

In the back of my mind, though, was my husband.

So I met this guy. Okay, I met lots of guys. But there was this one guy that was important. He was twenty-three. He was so handsome and so smart and so funny. But he wasn't my husband. Not this little boy. He had too many words, not enough money. His job wasn't important.

How he made me feel was, though. And far too soon, I found myself completely in love with this guy. Who wasn't going to be my husband.

But then, three and a half years later, he was. In the eyes of the law, anyway.

In reality, I guess it took a little while longer. We had to figure stuff out. We're still figuring stuff out.

I love him. I have always loved him. There's never been any doubt in my mind about that, no matter what else was going on around us.

But it's something else. Something I don't even know how to explain.

He's not who I thought he would be. He's not at all who I knew when I was I growing up. He's so very much more.

He's my husband.

Even if he never has a Very Important Job. Even if he never makes a lot of money. Even if he's not that much taller than me and even if he decides to have a deep, meaningful conversation with me every single time I turn on Judge Judy. Even then.

He's my husband. And I am glad.


Mrs Catch said...

Lovely thoughts. Mine isn't what I imagined as a child either, but I wouldn't trade him for the tallest, richest guy on the planet.

Anonymous said...

tres interessant, merci

Kathy said...

That gave me chills because I think that is what so many of us find out.

Misty said...

Great post, Stephanie. Exactly like Kathy said, it is what so much of us find out... Reality vs. fantasy... and sadly, a lot of marriages don't work out BECAUSE women won't let go of the fantasy... a lot don't work out because they don't work, but I have a sister who wants that hollywood fantasy induced partner- and they just aren't real.
And i'm glad...