Do you take this man?
September 28, 2012
Years ago, when I first got my husband out of our home, I breathed a sigh of relief and imagined a life free from being afraid every day. He left somewhat willingly, after a night of chaos and terror that ended with police standing in our bedroom, asking him why his shirtsleeves were covered with blood and the children were hiding in their bedrooms, ended with me putting the children in the car and knocking on a neighbor’s door at midnight.
He got worse before he got better. Several hospitalizations, one week in rehab, and some months later, he began to woo me back. I’d like to say he was cunning, but I do not know that it was premeditated, the way he got us to trust him again. I was seeing a man I had never seen before, and I was filled with hope. I suspect that he even surprised himself, this person he had become, thoughtful and present and clearheaded and patient and kind. He asked if he could move back in. I told him it was too soon. He asked if he could move back in. I told him maybe. And then I wrote this poem.
With This Ring