I'm lying on the couch, my breathing is slow, my eyes are closed. I feel a tickle on my leg. Jason is kissing my shins. He kisses them like they're the last thing he will ever kiss on earth. He always kisses me like that. He kisses like he means it. He never pecks me goodnight, or throws a kiss at me as he hurries out the door. In his kisses, I feel all the love he has for me, and it makes me want to cry.
And not for gladness.
Sometimes I'm afraid for what what might happen to us. I'm afraid that I don't love him enough. I'm afraid I don't know how to. I'm afraid his love isn't enough for both of us. I'm afraid he will never be able to show me what he sees in me worth loving.
I push Jason away. I push my husband away. I make it really hard for him to love me sometimes, but he always holds me close. He holds me close and kisses me, and I push him away. I keep pushing because I want to see if he will leave. I want to see if he can stop loving me like my father did. I don't believe it's possible to be loved this much. I don't know what to do with it. I want to stop pushing but I can't. If I stop testing his love, then does that mean I accept it? Once I've accepted it, it can be taken away.
Sometimes I miss my father. I miss knowing his love. I miss knowing that a man can love you, period. I miss trusting in love. I miss knowing that someone can love you and always love you, never take it away, never bring you pain, never watch you cry. I miss every single tear I've ever wasted on my father. I miss every moment I spent mourning him. I wish I could get them all back. I wish I could make a bundle of all those tears, and all that time, and all my heart, and give it to Jason, and that it would be enough.