He never caged me…

this one

I was sitting in advanced family therapy class. I don’t remember the exact conversation, but I remember the context. We were discussing our significant others – basically what made them significant.

“He’s like my favorite pair of warm, cozy socks”

I wasn’t sure if they would understand.

My professor looked at me when I tried to justify and interrupted me,

“Christine, I think that makes all of us wish we had our own favorite pair of warm, cozy socks”.

She was in the middle of a divorce. I think she got it.

It took a while for me to tell him this. I was afraid he wouldn’t quite understand.

He took offense. He didn’t get it.

He never caged me.

He sure as hell wasn’t perfect, though I tried to make him be. About six months in, I learned to either lean into the imperfection or let go.

I leaned in. It was not an easy process.

But he never caged me.

The writer in me wants to leave it at that.

But I know there will be questions. I know some need more.

He never impeded my growth. He challenged me to rise. He encouraged me to believe in myself. He advocated that I go on, even if I grew ahead of him – and asked that he never hold me back from being the best version of me that I can be. And he always wanted me to make it. Without a doubt, I know he wants to make it with me, but I also know his heart. I know he wants me to make it – with or without him. I also know that he hopes I hold on until he catches up, if he delays. I know him well.

He never caged me.

There is something else.

Although no single force has grounded me quite like having children did, he is the first love that ever made me grow roots.

Maybe you don’t understand this.

If life were up to me – I’d be a gypsy.  A little unorthodox, but unorthodox never scared me.

If you’ve been following along with my writing, perhaps you understand this aspect, or maybe not.

Regardless, that’s a story for another day.

I was never a fan of roots. Oh, I get the importance of them and all that. But my experiences never provided me the sense that roots were the be-all-end-all. In order for me to grow – I had to go beyond the roots. I had to see what else there was, what else was there to know, how else do people do it.

Ducks don’t have to follow ducks, and sometimes…they shouldn’t.

He grounded me. He made me grow roots. No matter how hard I fought it – and I assure you I did.

He never left the small town. God, I wanted him to. But his argument was always legit. I wanted to sell the house, move on, and experience more. He wanted me to remember what it was and what it meant.

He made me grow roots.

He never caged me.

He will always be my favorite pair of warm, cozy socks.

And I will always love him for that – all of that.

© LifeasChristine, 2018. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to LifeasChristine with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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