January 5, 2001 ~ Desire and Betrayal
All yesterday I was thinking about the date. January 4th. That date is weird for me; it has a past. I want to write about that past. I can't, though, not tonight. I have hundreds of pages to read and a husband to love.
That husband just now walked over and informed me he is going to go to bed now, and that makes me want to cry. I've hardly seen him the past two days. I won't see him much for several more, either.
Why is it that I sometimes do the exact opposite of what I want to do? Tonight at dinner, after most of the day separate, I sat down next to him. He looked tired. I wanted to rub his back, to hold his hand, to plant little kisses on the top of his head.
Something stupid came to mind, though. It was so stupid that I don't even remember now what it was in the first place. I love you, said my heart. But my mouth griped about some little thing he had forgotten to do, something I had asked him to do.
He withdrew within himself. Mumbling an apology, turning away. I sat in guilty silence, my heart glaring at me.
A moment later, I burst out, "I meant to say that I love you! I meant to say that I have missed you all day long. I meant to say that you are beautiful to me and I want to kiss you..."
He smiled. I love this man.
Last night as I read late into the night, I watched him sleep. He was curled on his side, facing the wall to keep the light from waking him. The gentle rise and fall of his shoulder brought a sense of peace to the room. I wanted to be warm, to be held, so badly. I wanted the hair of his beard to tickle my nose, to make me itch. I wanted to kiss that little soft hollow just above his collar bone but before his neck. I wanted to doze off to sleep in the warmth of that infinite passion. To hold and be held. To know I am known. I am not alone. I am loved.
And I love.
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