When we went to Florida I officially got to marry my best friend. When we came home my mother in law asked us both how our first few days as a married couple were. We both responded it was no different than normal and then my husband added “marriage is just an official promise to not leave and I think we’re past that”. I liked that a lot for two reasons: 1 getting married shouldn’t change the dynamic or feeling of a relationship and 2 he’s absolutely right, marriage is about making the commitment to each other to stay and other than signing that license we’ve definitely already made that commitment. He is my best friend, my other half, my exact opposite in nearly every way and we complement each other perfectly. I’m a firm believer that there’s a perfect match to everyone’s brand of crazy and my relationship is proof. If you knew our whole story together from where we began until today you’d be blown away. In the beginning we weren’t necessarily good for each other. Our chaos fed off the other and we accomplished nothing but complete destruction of ourselves and everything around us, we were a wild fire. Even through all of the chaos, destruction, and pain I knew there was something there that I needed, something that I wanted to hold on to no matter what. Through multiple mutual incarcerations, through our addictions, through financial struggles, through emotional times, through all the bad I could see how good it could be. Never in my life had I met someone that was with me 100% through it all. I’d never met someone that refused to give up no matter how intense the hardship. I’d never had someone so dedicated to stay no matter how hard I might’ve pushed. He’s been with me through it all, to hell and back and he’s never wavered not for a single second. I think that’s the thing that most relationships lack is the desire to stay, to stand strong, to never waver. The love may be there but the solidarity isn’t. No relationship is perfect, no person is perfect, no relationship is easy, and love isn’t just a feeling it’s an action and it takes work every day. When things get tough most people give up when they should grip harder. When things get tough is when you’re tested the most. We’ve held each others hands through some of the hardest things I’ve ever experienced, we’ve leaned on one another, and we may have bent, but we never broke. In the beginning we fed each others chaos, but today we feed the others desire to do better. I’ve found someone that has no desire to give up, someone who’s the exact opposite yet perfectly compatible, I’ve found someone committed to me and our family, I’ve found someone that isn’t afraid to challenge me, I’ve found someone with the desire to listen and learn, I’ve found someone that makes me smile constantly, I’ve found someone that knows me better than I do. I’ve found my perfect person, the one I want to argue with, the one I want to learn with, the one I want to fall asleep with and wake up next to, the one that I will never give up on, the one I want to love until the end of time. People aren’t perfect, relationships aren’t perfect, but you can find the person that is perfect for you.
My person
I’m Working on It 
People, by my viewpoint, resemble a clean white handkerchief when they’re born. As time progresses, blowing this way and that in the wind catches dust and debris. Some people don’t like the affects and wash their cloth by attending church or committing themselves to a great cause, and in completing these tasks, the cloth does lose some grime, but it’s never white as the innocent soul of an infant. It will never be again.
While time canters on, some white-ish clothes may be scooped up and folded, put up for safe keeping; others, bless their hearts, get caught up in horrific whirlwinds and treacherous storms. The longer they remain in either area, the bigger the affects and the less rags there are to reach a corner of your kerchief onto because the cleaner white and grungier gray don’t fit right. The tears and wrinkles refuse fitting together for the singular piece they’d make, which is why it’s so much harder as a more experienced cloth in finding a match.
Soon, some cloths, knowing their chances of finding a cloth with the same older wear becomes more and more extenuating, they understand that finding the same marks of blue and green, ripped corners, and a snippet from inside the right corner are so hard in matching up, that it’s simply easier and more time conservative blowing around alone.
Speaking for myself, rather than spinning around in search of my match—that’s unbearably shredded, wrinkled, and discolored, I’ve become accepting of my marks. I understand and appreciate the life lessons—but that isn’t the tattered piece of rag dangling off the heel of the passerby, who gently raises his foot, peeling me off and tossing me into a nearby puddle.
Even my latest adventure—the trip on the bottom of a shoe in the city, traveling to the country before being discovered, was exciting.
Weeds, flowers, and the occasional animal wanders by. The animals sniff and wander by. Rain and wild continually pummel me, relentlessly gnawing at my corners.
While some may find my lifestyle disappointing, I find the incredible trip worthwhile. Single scraps, that have been through the mill are much lighter, of course, and blow around quite a bit more than the ones who have found their other half.
And of course, the sooner one finds their matching piece, the easier it is to match up and share those splashes of color and wrinkles of time. It sounds as if you’ve been swirling in the same wind for some time and finally grabbed each other’s corners to make your knot. Only time will tell if your knot proves tight enough to withstand the torrent. But your forecast looks fantastic!
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*Should have bothered reading and correcting before submitting…. Sorry about that. But, it appears the story forms a picture that gets my main idea across to any readers. 🫣
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Your comment was beautiful! I loved it, it painted a marvelous picture thank 💕
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