Marriage is a comfort. A familiar scent that gets into your nose and the spaces between your ears that you halfheartedly wash during whudu.
But marriage is not easy. It demands a balance. Between rationality and emotion. It demands patience. And apologies for things that you did not do, for errors you did not make. Because apologies in marriage is not about who is right or wrong. Apologies are about moving past the sticky molasses that drags you down, beats you and cuts you up. Apologies are about realising that marriage is bigger than a moment of anger.
My wife used to be a little insecure. About my loves. Insecure about things that I could not change. People I could not erase and words that were marks on a whiteboard. Streaks wiped over with blotted paper and selective editing. I don't hold onto these words. But I appreciate them for what they are. Distant memories of a time before her.
Marriage is exciting.
It is a rollercoaster thrill. Without the tedious wait or the smell of evaporated vomit.
Marriage is sobering.
Its the moments between dishes, and the contentment of letting your guard down.
Marriage is true.
Devoid of pretension and falseness.
Marriage is great.