I see her reading me like a familiar book where she has jagged page edges to instantly get to her favorite parts.
She hears the quiet in my voice and knows that there are underlying worries in the absence of my words.
I’m going through an introspective time, as I usually do when my birthday starts creeping its way into my life.
She sees my focus on work demands and senses my overly full calendar, watching me to make sure I don’t over stress.
The girl I married studies me, measuring my breathing and knowing that I am gone to somewhere inside my head that is all mine. It is a place where I am at one with my thoughts. Through the corner of my eye, I see her, a masked look of concern guiding her gaze.
I should turn around and tell her that I’m okay and that I’m merely tired from a long day of work, but I stay silent, observing her instead.
The girl I married is gone. In her place is this vibrant, actualized woman whose personality is as delicious as it ever was in her days of youth. The girl has been replaced with this highly intuitive being who fiercely protects the man she loves and the home they’ve built. The girl, despite her worries over his worries, forges ahead and doesn’t let him wallow in misery. She waits in silence for when the time is right and then she will speak.
I got the phone call this morning. It was the let’s-clear-the-air-and-make-sure-you-get-out-of-your-funk phone call.
The woman knew exactly what to say and in the underlying timbre of her voice I heard the girl from so long ago, reaching out to me, playing my heart strings and letting me know that our imperfect union was as perfect as it needed to be.
And yes, the girl is gone, but the woman she left in her stead is everything and more that this moody man will ever need.