I was chatting with a buddy the other day about getting
together sometime and jamming. He said he was available and ready to go right
then and there (if you don’t know, already, some of us musician-types can be a
bit immediate when it comes to jamming), but I told him I had things I needed
to finish around the house first.
Actually, what I said was I had a “honey-do list.”
“Isn’t she in Africa?” he asked.
“No, she doesn’t leave until late August.”
“Oh,” he began to laugh, “So you’re still on the leash, huh?”
This struck me as odd for some reason. Not that I haven’t
heard such comments before (often with far more colorful, and less flattering characterizations),
but I was thrown off guard by his making the statement. He’s a good guy, and I
certainly don’t begrudge him (he is, after all, living with his girlfriend and
their daughter, so he knows what it is to be in a relationship), but I was
tempted to mention being “on the leash” has been the best thing for me the last
twenty years, or so.
My beautiful bride and I started dating September 19th,
1994, and were married October of 1996. Yes, to some it’s a long time, but it
has been time well worth living. She is a blessing like none other I have
experienced, though at times I think we were both ready to curse… Our life together has been full of all types
of drama and, sometimes, boredom. We’ve laughed as tears streamed down our
faces and screamed as we (well I,
anyway) threw pots and pans on the floor of our little tiny kitchen in our
little tiny apartment.
We have struggled with loss so deep the days seemed to sink
into a darkness we never thought we’d see the light out of; heartbreak, betrayal,
embarrassment, death.
I have stubbed my toe and shunned her desire to comfort me;
she’s always been patient with that side of me, but…
When we were told of our daughter’s diagnosis, we mourned
together; she wasn’t dying, mercifully, but knowing the rest of her life would
be a struggle most of her peers would never know was devastating, and the guilt
we felt was almost unbearable (I know it sounds weird, but we both deal with
our daughter being affected by who we are, somehow).
Having a son who’s considered advanced for his age adds a
bit to the mix, as well. It’s a strange home dynamic when the younger brother acts
older because his sister doesn’t have the maturity to act the age she is. And then,
trying to figure out discipline for two completely opposing personalities…
well, I guess if you’ve got kids, or been around them, you can understand this.
Not to mention the battle of adoption.
Anyway (there’s that
word, again), I just thought I’d share a little bit. If I truly am “wiped”
(heh - as someone once wrote me), stuck with the “ol’ ball n’ chain,” or “still
on the leash,” I’m okay with that. Frankly, God has blessed me with a woman I
could not have chosen without her being willing to say ‘I do.’ And she has… and
she has… and she has… the girl deserves a purple heart.

always and forever, babe
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