Photo by Keagan Henman on Unsplash

*WARNING*

This crosses the border of ‘serious’ and may be better left for another day. It’s an extremely intimate display of vulnerability and is to be handled with care. I tried not to go here, but… well… I did.

Where do I start? How about with the level of fear that is rising within me? My kids and I, we grew accustomed to an existence bent on finding scraps. Bits of attention and pieces of love from a man who was unable or unwilling to share. You know, the not-good parts that really are the best parts, but that he could take or leave. Mostly just leave.

Then you show up. And get it right. How did you do that? I’m waiting for the floor to drop from under me like it did before.

No, please don’t feel this- don’t name it, it’s too soon.

It’s not only me that makes it easy.

How do I say it’s not only me he’s winning over? How do I say that loving me is a three-person deal or no deal at all?

I don’t have to. That’s where he’s right but could also be so wrong.

“Spit it out”, he says… okay.

I’m terrified. To be treated well is fulfilling in a way that is deeply… relieving. Not a wonder it’s so hard to capture in words. I see the kids relax into who they are. He does not scrutinize or judge. They see him caring for me, treating me well. They feel what it’s like to be…