Remembering

{Sky in an old, abandoned church we found.}

“Sometimes I need
only to stand
wherever I am 
to be blessed.” 
― Mary Oliver

While he was away, I began, slowly, to remember. Piece by shining, fragile piece, our marriage came back to me.

As much as people talk of their heart remembering, there is just as much that the heart can forget, or can lose like a wedding band on a sandy beach, never to be seen again. And I had forgotten. The way I loved when he was near, the feel of his hand grasping mine, the pride of telling the world, "I'm his." Everything was lost, and cold, and everything hurt.

The only way I've seen trust come back is through time. But I knew that those four months apart could easily be our final unraveling, because the threads were already so loose. That first night he was gone, I had so many different emotions, I could only look up at the ceiling and wonder what life would be like when he got home. Hope was thin, and faith, thinner.

Time passed, and I felt myself missing him more and more. And when he walked through the door late that night and held me against his rough uniform, everything felt different. More importantly, nearly a month later, it is still different. He has become the one I thought I was marrying, the one I couldn't wait to say vows to and be swept up in forever.

They say happiness shouldn't be placed in people, because they inevitably will let you down. I can't help but get much of my happiness from lots of people, though; my daughter, this baby, my parents, and my friends are what make this life sweet. And him. Finally, beautifully, him.

Marriage is supposed to be a journey that will take years and years of my life, and we're only three and half years down the path. Yet it has brought me to my knees many times, leaving them bloodied and bruised. How bewilderingly unexpected that it is coming back to the beginning of newlywed amazement and happiness.

This place feels so much like home now. He feels so much like home now.