Thread: Life is funny
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Old 05-11-2011, 03:37 AM
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bitterborn bitterborn is offline
Join Date: May 2011
Location: Oklahoma
Posts: 42

There's a room in our house we now refer to as "R's Room", before I called it the "teenager's room" because clothes were always strewn about and it appeared that a shoe factory had exploded. It is the room that contains the biggest closet and therefore her room.

Truly though, it is her room. Look around and you will see her. There is a rusty rail road spike laying on a ledge. She picked it up on a long motorcycle ride that was part of a good day. There is a rock from Howard, Colorado where she watched llamas in the morning while sipping coffee. There are things in there that predate me, a faded picture of her daughter in a hand drawn flower and raggedy ann dolls. More recent items such as a bottle of water that R drank from, waiting his return should he be thirsty again. There is the nightstand that we put there so he had a place to lay his phone and glasses.

There is no clock in that room. She doesn't want one there.

There are parts of me present in that room, I am after all part of her. There are parts of R there as well, he is after all part of her. But those dolls which are definitely a part of her are no part of any man in her life. There are other little mementos of precious memories and precious failures that came before either of us. Those mementos carefully placed and arranged represent memories, feelings and emotions that are as much a part of her as R or I.

I am but a subtle flavoring in her identity, R is also but a subtle flavor. Neither of us are her source of who she is. She is the woman I fell in love with, she has changed, she has grown, I still fall in love with her, I love the woman she is today.

That is her room really no matter what I call it.

She is M regardless of what label we apply, yes she is a mother, she is a wife, she is a lover, she is a girlfriend, she is even an employee. But no matter what label we use to show her relationship to us she remains M. She remains who she is, regardless of who she is to us. I think that I do her a disservice when I think of her by one of those labels and forget that she is more herself than an extension of me.

There is a huge difference between "M my wife" and "my wife M"

She is M, I love her.
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