It’s hoarse and he’s stiff and he’s sore. A first aid kit had been supplied before hand, and before we fell asleep late this morning, I took care of everything that needed to be taken care of.
So, I get these questions—

“Why do you stay with him, if he hurts you?”

Answer: We hurt each other. I stay with him, because we save each other—and are the only ones who can do so.

“Why do you put up with his crap? Why does he put up with yours?”

Answer: It’s only the hand running down the chain—collecting all past actions, feelings, and moments—when the hand reaches the end of the chain, we pass it through a flame, and wrap it around each other—and say forever. There is nothing he can do, nor I can do—that will break that chain.

“What is so special that you both stay together?”

Answer: I do not believe in God. I do not believe in heavenly salvation or eternal damnation. I believe that the man I call husband is my greatest joy and my greatest pain—I will not take one without the other, nor could I ever let him go. I believe that humans save, die, and are reborn in each other—not in some spiritual eather, we are reborn and saved in the moments of quiet, and pain, and joy.

I would not have died if it were not for him.

I would not live if it were not for him.

And now you know.