Wednesday, January 05, 2011
Start of something longer or not . . .
This is the story about how a perfect marriage fell irreparably apart.
He thought she was perfect; she thought he was perfect; they both knew their newborn was perfect. So whatever was imperfect must be something out there. Or maybe, somewhere else.
If he is perfect, she thought, then maybe it’s me.
What the hell is wrong with me? he demanded of himself. She’s so damn perfect.
If the imperfection was not out there then it must be somewhere else and the only place left was right here, somewhere deep inside, somewhere so hidden that it only came to light when exposed to the other one’s perfection.
Which is how a perfect marriage fell apart although it all began so perfectly.