Every day he loves the woman under repair.
Some days I get a little closer
to being the woman who’s more whole,
easier to love, and more worthy
of loyalty, of friendship,
of compassion and understanding.
Other days I fall apart a little more
than the broken thing I already am.
But every day he comes home
and loves with all his strength
the woman he finds here,
all the disparate pieces,
all the uncomfortable silences,
all the gaps in reason.
We both know that if we waited until
all that needs fixing has
been fixed before we loved,
we wouldn’t have each other.
And maybe there is no end.
Maybe the puzzle doesn’t get
completed before we run out of time.
Maybe this is the woman he married—
not the woman I could become
after I’ve shed all the pounds
and gotten more sleep
and stopped being insecure
and stopped being homesick for my native country
and become less hung up on my past
and learned to manage my time better
and learned to streamline my spending habits
and finally flushed out of my system
that Depo Provera contraceptive
that made me unresponsive in bed
and prone to bouts of depression.
Maybe the version of me that has
overcome all the things that
make it such a challenge to love me,
the version I’ve always
meant for him to have instead
because I know he deserves better,
doesn’t exist at all.
Maybe I’m the only one here,
the one that makes him want to be here.
And maybe I’m enough.
From “Kitchen and Cooking Fun Engagement Session”
by photographer Henk Prinsloo