Pandora's Box
At the foot of our bed, there are three suitcases in which I keep my treasures: baby curls, pressed flowers, yellowed obituaries—the kinds of things a woman keeps and ponders in her heart.
I haven't opened the bottom one in a long, long time. It contains the story of how I came here.
I hope I can tell it well, and that no harm comes from the telling.
Labels: marriage, the writing life
—Kyran, 12:26 PM
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5 Comments:
Kyran,
I think people's love stories are beautiful, and yet they rarely get told, inclusive of the strife and leaps of faith that were necessary to get the couple from point a to point b. I can't wait to read your story and am grateful your husband is on board with you sharing.
Do no harm is a useful mantra. I say do not deceive yourself. Self-deception is always more harmful than truth.
Love is a force born of tornadoes, hurricanes and other beautiful, natural disasters. It targets its intended without reason, and leaves open-mouthed witnesses in its wake. I would love to read your story when you've written it. I sense there would be some similarities between your experiences and my own, complete with the exquisite insanity of discovery mixed with all the unsavoury, inherent decisions.
I am new to your blog but I am proudly addicted. Here's a friendly nudge toward writing your story.
I have no doubt that you will tell it well. Love the suitcases - a beautiful way to keep mementos.
There's a little antique dresser in my living room. The top two drawers get plenty of action; they hold the phonebooks and Spongebob videos. But the bottom drawer, I hate to admit, hasn't been opened in years. We call it our Love Drawer, and it holds every tangible shred of our romantic history, from the earliest love letters, to the wedding invitation.
I don't suppose it matters much that we don't add to it anymore. But you've inspired me to get in there and see what I can take back out.
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