October 4, 2016
Today is my 52nd Wedding anniversary. My husband bought me flowers that look similar to the ones i’m holding in an old wedding photograph. It all looks foreign to me.
I sometimes feel like i’m living a life based on what other people tell me my life is. My concept of what is real is through memories of stories that people have told me. I mean, I can picture it happening, even imagine myself doing what they say I did.
The part that is discerning is that I can’t remember how I interpret emotions based off what they said.
I saw a spider this morning and I squashed it. Fred told me I am usually terrified of spiders and I always ask him to kill them, then my daughter remarked his statement with thats becasue mom’s trying to make you feel manly.
I can see myself doing both those things. However, today I simply grabbed a napkin and swatted it without a second thought.
“You Alright?” Fred asks, letting the corner of the newspaper he’s reading dip down so he can look at me. “You are awfully quiet.”
I nod my head and smile.
“I love you, darling.” He said returning my smile and continuing to read his paper.
I thought about that statement. Perplexed by the words.
“Fred, what do you mean by that?” I ask.
“Hm” he folds his paper. “Darling… like Sweetheart, Dear, Love.”
“That last one, what is does that mean?” I push.
“Love?!” He sounds shocked, he studies my face for a moment. “Ah dear, Love is…” He sighs and taps his chin with the tip of his index finger before starting again. “Love is the intoxicating emotion I feel when I look at you. It’s the pride I have in calling you mine, the comfort I have when you’re around, and promise we made to always stand by each other until death do us part.” He touched my hand, held it for a moment and swiftly wiped away a tear from his cheek.
“Fred, I don’t remember what that feels like.” I say in a raspy whisper. My throat was tight and tears spilled down my face. His words were so endearing but again it sounds like a story that could be about us, but also so estranged.