100 Words on Love: We Share a Life

We share a life now. You and I. And like the patchwork quilt that cloaks our sleep, we tug at it, this way and that. You’ve always called me “the blanket thief.”

We share bottles of wine, holidays and secrets. You give me your name and I clear space on my bookshelves. Your library mingles with mine.

We divide the pain and joy of our worlds. You carry me. And sometimes, I carry you.

Tonight, I breathe you in as you lie asleep beside me. My head folds into your shoulder. A jigsaw complete. And you share my insomnia, unknowingly.

This article was previously published on The Good Men Project as part of their 100 Words on Love series

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100 Words On Love: In Sickness and Health

I sit on the edge of my bed, in the psychiatric ward. My hand is lost inside my husband’s.

A psychiatrist asks questions with practiced kindness. I rattle off answers I know by heart. Sleep, appetite, mood, meds.

And then there’s a test. Part of admission. And I don’t know the answers. I can’t do the sums. Can’t draw the object. Can’t spell the word. My brain is mud.

My husband’s poker face slips. I can hear his concern in the silence. He squeezes my hand gently as I swat away tears. I’ve never felt more broken.

Or more loved.

This article was previously published on The Good Men Project as part of their 100 Words on Love series

Love In The Mess Of Parenthood

It was hard not to be entranced by Jackson Bliss’ exquisite, lyrical essay How To Stay In Love. I smiled stupidly as I read his piece for the first time, feeling a delicious recognition, and knowing intimately the love he so beautifully described. The privilege of it.

Prompted by Jackson’s piece and his beautifully expressed sentiments, I wanted to write about guarding and nurturing love after two become three. About staying in love when the dyad is pierced by new life and new love. And by the mess, the magic and the madness of parenthood. Continue reading