A BROKEN SPIRIT...

Mama always said that marriage was the hardest thing anyone could embark on...

I used to think she was exaggerating; after all, she and papa were very happy;

And papa loved her.

She also used to say that habits got worse in marriage...

I never understood what she was talking about.

I wrote it off as musings of a troubled old mind.

But I never forgot one morning, when she came to dress me up for school...

She had puffy, red eyes... She had been crying...

And I had asked her innocently, why?

She looked at me and smiled wistfully...

And She whispered; there are some things that you cannot hope for.

and when you realise that, all that's left for you to do is cry...

As usual, I didn't understand.

After school that day, I came home to announce that I wished to be like her;

Her reaction both surprised and bothered me...

She instantly grabbed me by the arms and shook me quite violently while muttering;

You should never wish that!!!, You should never wish that!!!.

Crying, I ran to my room. Mama had hurt me.

But more than physical hurt, She hurt me emotionally.

I was 5 and I didn't understand...

Some twenty something years after, I am beginning to see clearly and understand well what Mama meant...

I'm beginning to see too clearly what my mother saw...

I am married now with my own little girl...

When I was to introduce him to my family; Mama with her ailing voice had said to me sadly, 

He's just like your father.

And I had giggled excitedly, Yes Mama, He's just like Pops.

It is true, I married a man just like my father.

And everyday, I wake up to a new found hatred for Him.

Does my husband love me? Oh Yes he does;

Of that I have no doubt.

But He loves me the wrong way...

The man I fell in love with, the rock I had grown to depend on, the man who I felt completed me...

That man is gone... Sometimes, I wonder if he was ever there at all.

How can somebody change so drastically?

Or were there tell-tale signs?

Was I blind to the truth?

Did I choose to ignore what I knew deep down?

Or like my Mother, was I resigned to the excuse of "love"?.

Of course I knew, I knew who He was before I married Him...

He had shown me on numerous occasions his true person.

But much more appealing to me were his passionate pleas of love.

He would hurt me and with that same passion, love me.

Ours was a destructive relationship. 

Oh yes, my husband loves me; I see it in the way he looks at me...

As if I'm non-existent.

Oh yes, my husband loves me; I see it in the way he cringes when I touch him...

As if I carry pure poison in my fingertips.

Oh yes, my husband loves me; I see it in the way he so easily puts me aside...

As if he cannot be bothered by anything I remotely have to say.

Today is our wedding anniversary...

I have donned on my best...

Made what used to be his favorite meal...

I hear him enter the driveway, hear the key in the lock...

I smell his perfume even before he steps in; close my eyes and breathe deeply,

Savouring the scent of my husband that time will afford me.

That is the closest I would ever come to touching him.

He looks at the table; shakes his head and walks upstairs...

He'd rather read the paper than eat the food his wife has made...

I follow him upstairs, in to our bedroom,

I want to touch him so bad, to kiss him and have him hold me...

To hear him whisper in my ears how sorry he is and how much he loves me...

To have him smile at me... to have him even look at me...

But I hold back and ask quietly, 

Does She love you like I do?

He replies by turning off his bedside lamp and easily falls asleep.

We both sleep in the same bed, but it would have made no difference if I was sleeping on a cold street.

I say this, there are worse things a man can do than physically abuse a woman.

At least, those scars would heal.

There's that by the way, the physical abuse... but there is that which won't ever heal.

So I'm left here, 

Silently dreading the day my little girl would look up innocently at me...

 And tell me that she wants to be like me...