I am stunned at people who could literally hop from one relationship to another; they make things seem so easy like it doesn’t leave any trace of resentment, or pain. I wonder if they ever knew how relationships could turn from one season to another – that it could be all warm and loving, cold and frightening, strong and growing, fresh and nurturing – all at different times, that they’d have to wait and labor long enough to gain a fruitful harvest? At least by now, this is what I know.
More than ten years of marriage has shown me but one season – all sunny, and bright, and colorful – and I thought that was all there is. Not till I noticed a change – gradual, hardly perceptible – forgivable. At one point I thought, this was the relationship I dreamt about – ideal, perfect – “quiet” – unfortunately, uneventful – like having a vacation, loving the sand on my feet and the ice cream on my tongue, but NOT remembering what happened after – something like it. I started missing the fire – not that it has stopped to burn – but that it has transformed into a coal-like state, eternally smoldering, minus the flare.
I am not one likely to give up. I have a different spirit – quite unlike that of an ordinary wife's. I am always brave enough to make my presence felt. I don’t fade into another’s person, not even my husband’s. I know, I need to do something. For one, ours is a match made in heaven – a gift from the gods. Whenever I look into his eyes, I still see the rest of my life. Whenever he holds my hand, I still feel the warmth inside. And when he comes home and leaves, he kisses me with the assurance that I am his home. Thus, letting the passion go—just like that-- isn’t anything I’d ever want to do.
And so this is another season that I am just as prepared to weather, even for the next ten years or so. I am facing it head on, with an accepting heart and open mind. It is enough at the moment that I understand how seasons change, and that the relationship needs this time to grow.
I’ll let it grow.