November 28, 2011

My dearest,

It’s Monday and it’s a public holiday. Good reason to sleep in. You get up earlier than me, eager to check your opponent’s latest move on Lexulous. I tell you to give me another ten minutes and I continue to snooze. Ten minutes later, I hear your voice asking me whether I threw out the bottle of honey. I mumble, I did, it had ants. No, you tell me, that’s the other bottle. You threw away a new bottle of honey.

That wakes me up good and proper.

I check the pantry with sleep-stained eyes and you are right. I threw away a perfectly fine bottle of honey. Pure raw honey from the Cameron Highlands, expensive shit. Damn. Of all the stupid things I have done. Stupid, stupid. And I turn to you, expecting you to be angry, to be disappointed at yet another domestic mishap I seem to be so gifted at.

You are laughing. You tell me I’m so silly and you pat my head. You give me a kiss and then return to your next Lexulous game, intent on another record-breaking bingo. It’s time, I think, I realise something.

You give me no chance. I want to, I wanted to feel so sorry for myself, to get angry and indulge myself in useless energy and emotions, but you won’t allow me that. I want you to follow a pattern, to reprimand me and demand unreasonable things from me so I may be resentful, so I may be a victim (an easier role to play, it would seem), but you just want me to be myself. You don’t say the words, but you let me know that this is the me you want to be with, period. More is bonus, more will be fun, but this is enough.

You give me no promises. There is a limit to our lives (we get a lifetime, just like everyone else), and there may be a limit to our love. But we can’t spend what time we do have worrying about this. We have only enough time to live, to live truly and fully, and to love each other the same.

You give me no choice. And I don’t want a choice. I don’t want any more choices. I don’t want any other. There will be no proposal. There will be no ring and no going down on bended knee. There will be no wedding and there will be no vows.

There will be nothing but this: We have each other, and we are together, and that, my dear, is bliss.

You give me everything.

Yours, ever and always.