We've been together for ten years. And we have a lot of fun, but that's not what's important. Fun is so ephemeral and easily spoiled. Joy is what she brings me and what I strive to give her.
I don't know what it's like for other couples, as I've never really been in another couple. They look happy enough. As happy as we are. We don't understand some of the things they do, particularly anything that takes them away from each other when they don't need to be.
The way we see it, nine hours a day five days a week is too long to be apart. Why would I want to go hunting? Why would she want to go shopping? I spent a week at Scout camp this summer. That was the longest we've ever been apart. I missed her. I called every night. I climbed a ridge every night to get cell reception because I missed her.
This wasn't supposed to be about me, but somehow it always is. I guess it's either that or I start bragging about how amazing she is. I've done that before. Even that would come back around to me.
Every so often, she asks why I love her. It happens less often these days, because I usually give some variation of the same answer. I don't know if it's a good answer. Is there such a thing as a good answer to that question? I know it's one of those things philosophers like to wrestle over.
My answer is that she brings out the best in me. Or she makes me better. The words are a dim shadow of what I feel. I love her like I love myself. More on my better days. Anyway, they're kind of the same thing. We're kind of the same thing.
And when I stop to think what an amazing compliment it is that someone so vibrant, deep, beautiful, and smart voluntarily chose to spend forever with me...
I am not without her. She is not without me. We were both a little broken when we met—healing and doing well, but still a little broken. We healed together, healed each other.
She. Me. Only aspects of we.
We have fun, sometimes.
We always have completion.
We always have love.
We always have joy.