In sickness.

I'm uncertain of how to say it so I have put it all here and for once I give you a job - sort it out, I hope you walk away with something to muse on.

Dad told us during one of those famous family meetings that marriage was an incredibly difficult institution. He said it with a pained look that I will always remember, as though he was spitting nails. I freaked out! There was something about his facial expression that made those words ring. Something about the way he said it made me think there were events in marriage he couldn’t sufficiently dilute into words for us. Oh! But I was just a little girl, my mind couldn’t wrap around extremely intense matters. I thought, “If you and mom handled it this well, then what’s to fear?” When the day rolled around, I vowed to respect my husband; To honor and love him through sickness, holocaust, hurricane and what not. I was going to face the world with my bestest friend. There was one slight problem though, I didn’t fully grasp the concept of “sickness”. It floated like an imaginary balloon. Now, through the years, it has become a reality – sickness will visit your marriage literally and figuratively.

Miss Delight

She’s a DELIGHT - my Amani!
In all of 16 months on this planet, she’s garnered more nick names than I have had my entire life; Ama, Baby girl, Bubbles, Juju (say it fast, as if you are stammering to say juice). “Juju” rules courtesy of big brother Mich. He tells us it means cute in her language.
She communicates with sentences too complex for me to decipher but her brother assures us that he knows her codes, so I worry not.

I. You. We – This is our life line.

 This box rules my life.

I’m hooked, it’s hooked; on my belt, attached to my head, in my hand, my pocket, my bag - We are one!

I hate sleep! I get insomniac anxiety - the unbearable separation for hours.

I keep it under my pillow, next to my bed. I reach for it before I say “good morning!” and after I say “good night!”

All the singlemarried ladies!

Once upon a time, when my mind brimmed over with naivety, I assumed marriage was an institution for old folk.
Time inched forward (like it always does) and brides and grooms adopted faces of people I knew. They were not contemporaries per se but people I related with. Suddenly I felt the urge to walk … away; I preferred them at a calculated distance. They complicated life. We were cautioned to steer clear of married men, innocent friendships were suspect. Wives huffed and puffed when younger girls engaged in conversations with their husbands, cordial relations ended on that note. It was a zone to tread carefully, if at all.

Balding

 You look into the mirror and notice the receding line, oh my gooness!
Maybe the action starts in the middle, like a smooth iceberg slowly emerging from the water – your hair is thinning, now what?