On The Other Hand...

He told me last night that when he met me he thought I was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen…and he still feels the same way.

He asked me if I would like a new diamond and wedding ring, since the diamond from my original set is somewhere in the septic system in our yard, having come out when I was doing laundry about 15 years ago.

He has heard every word I told him about the problems with our marriage, and has finally stopped drinking, lost weight, and the most amazingly, as of this week, has gotten off the sleep medication he has been addicted to for the past 10 years. That should take care of the sleep walking, amnesia, and passing out in strange places in the middle of the night. I had previously attributed those things to alcohol and only found out about the medication problem when the drinking stopped.

We are talking, a lot. Lo and behold, the TV remained silent Friday night after we came back from dinner, and again on Saturday evening. I know one weekend does not make up for the past years of neglect, but is a significant beginning.

We laughed, we talked about the past and mistakes that were made by both of us, and we planned for the future and the kind of life we want together.

He reminded me of something I said when we first moved in together. I had forgotten that I told him he was free to see other women as long as I had all I wanted. He told me it seemed like a very generous offer at the time until he realized that I was going to keep him too tired to stray. We both knew what was being said between the lines of that conversation, and we both wisely left it unspoken.

He remembers the girl I was because she is in front of him again, and he has fallen in love with her once more. He acknowledges his role in suffocating her spirit and understands that I will never allow that to happen again.

I won’t be forgetting that there are things about him I will never be able to change. I would be happier with a more assertive man, a stronger man, a less oblivious man, but that’s not the man I married. The man I made the promises to is kind, generous, slow to anger, and unconscious to a lot of things going on around him. I respond to the motherless child in him, not really the healthiest of things to do, but it is our contract.

I know I could start again, but the life we made together, the children, the friends, the shared experiences—I won’t be finding those outside this door, but the door is not locked. I think I'll stay.