sweetbriarpoet
Flower Fortune- Sweetbriar: Poetry and fragrance.
family (Thank you to everyone who responded so lovingly and caringly to my last post. It made me feel as if I have great friends that I have yet to meet.)
They say that lonlieness is fleeting, like a bee sting,
a thistle prick. Am I the only one who can see the pinprick?
The scar?
It can be said for my husband that he has never once stopped loving me. Through everything, through the hardest times in our pasts, there has never been a time that he has thrown his hands in the air and given up. At the worst times, he's smiled secretly to himself and shaken his head at the floor. Once, when he was most angry with me (I had thrown a fit when I found out I was pregnant with the second set of twins), he put his hands on my shoulders and stared me down. Are you done? and I was.
He is not back yet. It's Sunday, and there has been one visit from him, a couple of phone calls, a small kiss each time he hangs up. On Thursday, when he came home, he almost cried when he picked up Ginny. I've missed you all so much, he said, and I couldn't help but think that it was a mistake for him to become a doctor. I almost begged him to quit, but this is what he wants more than anything in the world. I bit my lip and threw my arms around him. You're doing fine, I said to him, we're doing fine. This will all work out. But he looked exhausted, and he only patted my head when I said it. Yes, he answered, it will be fine, at any cost. But I still don't understand what he means.
He wondered if Edward's been sleeping over, but Rev assured him that my answers were truthful. I could never bring another man into my husband's bed; no matter how lonely or depressed I seem to be. Rev has been staying over some nights, however; tucking his Trinity in with my boys, and staying up late to wash the dishes while I scramble to write a paper. I have to work extra hard, since I found I didn't get the job I interviewed for. (It was little consolation that the position was not filled at all--the interview was a waste of the time I could have been spending with the children.) I am receiving a limited paycheck from a small newspaper I have written commentaries for, but it is not enough to feed even me. There are times I wish I would inherit millions of dollars from an unknown grandparent or uncle. Maybe I'm royalty and I don't even know it.
I have seen Edward more than Harry this week, and his wisdom and comforting embrace have given me a little hope for my future. Your house is full of material to write about, he says, as he kisses my head after class. And you have a gift, an inner spirit that most others don't. Won't you please at least start being a bit selfish and writing down your life? But blogging is all I can handle, and he knows this. One day, he says, you will come to me and say, Edward, I cannot see you anymore. I cannot see you because I am my own person, my own self, and you've known this all along. And you know what I'll do, Paige? What? I ask. I'll cry, he says, because I love you. And because, finally, you love yourself.
You won't cry, I answered. You'll be glad to see the last of snivelling, eccentric me. He cinched his arm around me. Don't doubt me, Paige, he said, seriously. Even though this is a secondary life for you, this is my primary life. You're all I have.
Christopher and Christian (Tucker) turn six years old on Tuesday. We'll have a small party (that, hopefully, Harry can come to) just with the family and cake and Rev and Trinity. The small presents I can afford for them will be opened and we'll watch Finding Nemo, a favorite movie. On Friday, Reggie and Louise arrive from England. They'll be so glad to see the cihldren, and I'll be so glad to see them. I want Louise to hug me and tell me everything is going fine. I want her to look at me and smile a knowing smile, Oh, Paige, she'll say. You look so young. It's always been the way she greets me. On Saturday, Louise will cook, Reggie will set up decorations, and we will throw a second party for the twins. This time, their friends will come with their parents for a barbecue on the lawn, and some of my neighbors will bring gifts for the boys. Harry, Edward, and Rev will all be there. Louise will comment on how handsome Edward is, and she'll know right away that her son is not the only one in my life. You look so young, she'll say to me.
I feel so old, I'll answer.
They say that lonlieness is fleeting, like a bee sting,
a thistle prick. Am I the only one who can see the pinprick?
The scar?
It can be said for my husband that he has never once stopped loving me. Through everything, through the hardest times in our pasts, there has never been a time that he has thrown his hands in the air and given up. At the worst times, he's smiled secretly to himself and shaken his head at the floor. Once, when he was most angry with me (I had thrown a fit when I found out I was pregnant with the second set of twins), he put his hands on my shoulders and stared me down. Are you done? and I was.
He is not back yet. It's Sunday, and there has been one visit from him, a couple of phone calls, a small kiss each time he hangs up. On Thursday, when he came home, he almost cried when he picked up Ginny. I've missed you all so much, he said, and I couldn't help but think that it was a mistake for him to become a doctor. I almost begged him to quit, but this is what he wants more than anything in the world. I bit my lip and threw my arms around him. You're doing fine, I said to him, we're doing fine. This will all work out. But he looked exhausted, and he only patted my head when I said it. Yes, he answered, it will be fine, at any cost. But I still don't understand what he means.
He wondered if Edward's been sleeping over, but Rev assured him that my answers were truthful. I could never bring another man into my husband's bed; no matter how lonely or depressed I seem to be. Rev has been staying over some nights, however; tucking his Trinity in with my boys, and staying up late to wash the dishes while I scramble to write a paper. I have to work extra hard, since I found I didn't get the job I interviewed for. (It was little consolation that the position was not filled at all--the interview was a waste of the time I could have been spending with the children.) I am receiving a limited paycheck from a small newspaper I have written commentaries for, but it is not enough to feed even me. There are times I wish I would inherit millions of dollars from an unknown grandparent or uncle. Maybe I'm royalty and I don't even know it.
I have seen Edward more than Harry this week, and his wisdom and comforting embrace have given me a little hope for my future. Your house is full of material to write about, he says, as he kisses my head after class. And you have a gift, an inner spirit that most others don't. Won't you please at least start being a bit selfish and writing down your life? But blogging is all I can handle, and he knows this. One day, he says, you will come to me and say, Edward, I cannot see you anymore. I cannot see you because I am my own person, my own self, and you've known this all along. And you know what I'll do, Paige? What? I ask. I'll cry, he says, because I love you. And because, finally, you love yourself.
You won't cry, I answered. You'll be glad to see the last of snivelling, eccentric me. He cinched his arm around me. Don't doubt me, Paige, he said, seriously. Even though this is a secondary life for you, this is my primary life. You're all I have.
Christopher and Christian (Tucker) turn six years old on Tuesday. We'll have a small party (that, hopefully, Harry can come to) just with the family and cake and Rev and Trinity. The small presents I can afford for them will be opened and we'll watch Finding Nemo, a favorite movie. On Friday, Reggie and Louise arrive from England. They'll be so glad to see the cihldren, and I'll be so glad to see them. I want Louise to hug me and tell me everything is going fine. I want her to look at me and smile a knowing smile, Oh, Paige, she'll say. You look so young. It's always been the way she greets me. On Saturday, Louise will cook, Reggie will set up decorations, and we will throw a second party for the twins. This time, their friends will come with their parents for a barbecue on the lawn, and some of my neighbors will bring gifts for the boys. Harry, Edward, and Rev will all be there. Louise will comment on how handsome Edward is, and she'll know right away that her son is not the only one in my life. You look so young, she'll say to me.
I feel so old, I'll answer.
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