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Live With Me
December 22, 2004 | Category:
A long time ago: He stood next to me in the rain. We looked up at the window of his ex-girlfriend's apartment.
He said to me: I would die for her.
I said to him: That's the problem.
I thought about all their fights - over the daily chores, the grind that she'd wanted him to share. He had been writing epic poems to her while she cleaned up around him. He'd pledged his sword to her beauty; she'd snorted and asked he pledge something more meaningful. Like a mop.
It was 15 years ago maybe and I remember his eyes. He stared at her window. I looked at him, and I said: She wants you to live for her. Share life with her, dude.
And now: Don't get me wrong. I am charmed by the gestures, the flowers CD brought me every Friday for years. I get squishy for the sweet text message. I reach out to hold his hand in the middle of the night. When he stood beside me as we fought for our son, I felt like we were the only two warriors on the planet and that we alone - that we, together, - were in arms against the same enemy.
But never, never have I ever wanted the devotion of the Knight pledged to die for his lady.
Honey, no.
Get off that horse and come sweep the barn. Come LIVE. Come plan the grocery shopping with me. You scrub behind his ears while I fetch his pajamas. I'll hold the paper, you tape the corner. You wash, I'll dry.
I know that once we tackle this, that we can fly. Even in the darkest moments, when we've hung up angrily and feel completely isolated from each other. I know. I know that it is in our grasp.
But generations of Vikings kick his ass with instincts to deal with adversity with an axe and a roar. And we've been struggling, back and forth. And suddenly I understand. He wants to show he that's in this, that he's sticking.
So I reach to him and say: yes. Yes. Everytime the chips have been down, I've looked to you. You can be my hero.
But in the meantime, in the cracks of life.
Live with me.