Thursday, August 07, 2014

Through His Eyes

Summer is drawing to a near, and with it, the end of the last term of my freshmen year of college. I had this grand idea that over the summer I would be able to get my house spring cleaned, relax, and take some time to enjoy the great outdoors, which I have missed horribly since beginning my coursework in October. What I did not realize was how intense these last two classes were going to be. I will be forever grateful that I managed to schedule them together, over the summer, and that we planned well,  and I was able not to have to work this summer.

Next week, I am going away for four days with my man to celebrate our nineteenth wedding anniversary, and to recharge my relationship. Due to some health issues that I've been having since the start of the year, planning for our trip this year has been more than a little difficult, to the point of almost wishing we weren't going. Things have managed to fall into our place, and I cannot wait to sit in the sun, play our traditional round of mini-golf (our first date was at a mini-golf place), and just enjoy spending time together, alone. We have talking to do, and dreams to share, and memories to make. I have realized that as we keep journeying forward in rebuilding our relationship, it's not about looking backwards, it's about constantly moving forward, and starting over, each day.

In a very low moment that I had recently, I asked him on the brink of tears, that if he knew I would end up so broken, health-wise, if he would have still married me. He took my face in his hands, looked me in the eyes, and said, "Absolutely." He meant it from the bottom of his heart. I get caught up in thinking of how he must miss out on us being able to go out on dinner dates, as he loves to go out to eat, or how my food issues have changed our nightly dinners (even though they are more healthy), and I feel in some secret place in my heart, that he must resent me. Crazy, yes. He doesn't harbor a resentful bone in his body, but I do sometimes, and I project that onto him. I think that because I feel so awful, and broken, and like I'm a mess, that he must see me that same way too. He doesn't. He looks at me, and somehow, through the sharp pointy edges and sunken features, he sees the beautiful woman he fell in love with all those years ago. I wish I could see myself through his eyes, if only for a moment.

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