I think I can count on one hand the number of times we've had such a major argument in our twelve years of marriage, but each time feels so horrible. We both could have said some different things, but boy, is it hard to stop yourself sometimes. I could see that it was going nowhere fast, but couldn't figure out how to step back in the middle of it.I hear him walking around upstairs. I'm sure we'll talk when I finally go to bed and the lights are out--somehow it's easier to admit my part in this when I have the protective cover of the dark. And then we'll walk tentatively around each other for a few hours in the morning until everyone's raw feelings have scabbed over and we can talk and laugh easily again. I wish I was already there.
You are a brave writer -- writing in the midst of the tough stuff. Your final lines are quite remarkable. The cover of the dark...and raw feelings scabbing over...these images go straight to the heart.
ReplyDeleteRuth