The Steel Box

Sitting with an open bottle of South African cabernet, my husband and I got into a very in depth conversation. I flipped through the latest issue of Esquire magazine to find a voluptuous Christina Hendricks sucking on a piece of watermelon. She wrote an open letter to all men everywhere giving them a bible on women, how we feel about the things that they do and a brief synopsis on how the female psyche works. Miss Hendricks was right on with everything she said. The article was so well written. She knocked it right out of the park. Every man should read it.

Once the second glass of wine was poured, the conversation shifted to a translation of what Christina had to say. We started to reflect on things that had happened in the ebb and flow of what made us a couple. How we met and where it all began. How he fought for me and how hard I finally fell. What it felt like to walk down the aisle to one another and whisper vows to build a future and a life together.

And then… my ridiculous mind full of insecurity and doubt set in. The empty Cabernet bottle became my microphone for all of the tiny fears I’ve been holding in the back of my mind. (It really is just like me to ruin a good, open conversation with doubts, regrets and frustration.)

So, I tell him I’m afraid. That I am not good enough to be a wife or mother. That maybe I am not meant for the mold of marriage and family. I’m feeling restless and want to travel. I want more from my life—our life. I’m afraid that I will get lost in the shuffle of his work day. That I need to take cooking classes, take a trip to Paris and want travel the world with him. I want to be back in Africa in the passenger seat of a jeep, riding through the red sands along the bank of the Bushman River. I want to be more and make more of a difference in the world. And that I just may be a little lonesome.

And as I talked, I watched the recognition in his eyes. I saw his face fall and he started to ring his hands. Had I said too much? Did I cross the line? But then I realized that this is how marriage works. I have to be able to voice my fears, dreams and opinions with a strong voice because how else will they be heard? I can’t leave these things in the back of my mind to be wrestled with.

As he pulled me close to him, he reminded me that he does everything to make me happy. Every minute he is away from me, he thinks of me. His only mission in life is to make us a life oozing with happiness and love. Beach houses, babies, trips around the world and lots of wine and laughter. He felt hurt and regretful that we had lost sight of each other. He knows I am a neurotic freak that needs to be constantly reminded that I am loved… And how grateful am I to have a man that not only wants to talk, but can listen to what I am saying?

This is what separates us from other couples. That we can talk. We can communicate and don’t have to be afraid of hurting the other person. Sometimes things just need to be said aloud so that our fears can be squashed and life can move on. This is why I love being married. This is why I can look at my husband and know for certain that I will die an old woman, cozy in his arms.