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There's people, maybe a few, who might be interested in what my sorted through thoughts are, about this.
Heck, even I've wondered a bit, just what my exact thoughts are.
And I guess for once I'm going to start out with my point, and not just maybe, possibly, cross-my-fingers, land there holding it, at the end. Just how do I feel about monogamy?
I believe in it.
And it's not just believing in an idea, some vague sort of happening in my head that may or may not finalize itself in an exact and specific conclusion. I believe in it. I know of it. I'm a part of it, because I'm a product of it. My folks didn't need me to complete their marriage, to fill is the gaps and spaces left blank, for how they felt about each other. They were just themselves, one for the other. And yes, for always. Making a two that's completely, and uniquely them.
I got to be the extra, but not the extraneous. I was never excluded, but not always included.
And growing up, I didn't mind that, not once. Because that's exactly how it should be. Each and every look between them when they thought I was asleep in the backseat on summer vacations, the Christmas gifts that I sometimes didn't understand, but made Mama blush so. The ones that made Dad's smile lines whiten and widen at his mouth, and I could see her, Mama counting each and every one, pleased. Clothing tucked high in closets that weren't for using, but couldn't be gotten rid of either, because they were part of their past together, part of the story that only they could read.
Part of their history as a two.
It worked. It still does. My folks, they have their always.
And it's not that it works for everyone. It can let you down. It can hurt past feeling. It can fall apart till you're the one in closets, or rooms, wondering why your old cards and letters and clothes don't read the same way. Why your story isn't being read. And why you can't find those smile lines, no matter how hard you look. Even when you know they have them, and that they're there. Only -- thiers.
And there's other truths too, I'm old enough to know that now. My outcome isn't everyone elses. My outcome isn't even always my own. Some people don't need to believe in monogamy. Some people don't believe in it at all. But I do. I need them both. Because that's home, and where it all started. And for while, for more than just a few years in my life, it was all I knew. Before I knew all about everything else. There shouldn't be any mistaking. I'm where I am because that's where I want, and choose to be. With who I want to be with. Both of them.
But sometimes?
Sometimes, one mouth can only ever cover one other at once. And we can only cast our eyes in one other direction, into one field of you. And try and anyone might, and lord knows I've tried this last part. We can only ever say one name at a time. Words get tangled up in each other all the time, and something always gets lost in the translation. One word at a time, one name at a time. One that always has to come first.
Because sometimes there's just only room for two.
Heck, even I've wondered a bit, just what my exact thoughts are.
And I guess for once I'm going to start out with my point, and not just maybe, possibly, cross-my-fingers, land there holding it, at the end. Just how do I feel about monogamy?
I believe in it.
And it's not just believing in an idea, some vague sort of happening in my head that may or may not finalize itself in an exact and specific conclusion. I believe in it. I know of it. I'm a part of it, because I'm a product of it. My folks didn't need me to complete their marriage, to fill is the gaps and spaces left blank, for how they felt about each other. They were just themselves, one for the other. And yes, for always. Making a two that's completely, and uniquely them.
I got to be the extra, but not the extraneous. I was never excluded, but not always included.
And growing up, I didn't mind that, not once. Because that's exactly how it should be. Each and every look between them when they thought I was asleep in the backseat on summer vacations, the Christmas gifts that I sometimes didn't understand, but made Mama blush so. The ones that made Dad's smile lines whiten and widen at his mouth, and I could see her, Mama counting each and every one, pleased. Clothing tucked high in closets that weren't for using, but couldn't be gotten rid of either, because they were part of their past together, part of the story that only they could read.
Part of their history as a two.
It worked. It still does. My folks, they have their always.
And it's not that it works for everyone. It can let you down. It can hurt past feeling. It can fall apart till you're the one in closets, or rooms, wondering why your old cards and letters and clothes don't read the same way. Why your story isn't being read. And why you can't find those smile lines, no matter how hard you look. Even when you know they have them, and that they're there. Only -- thiers.
And there's other truths too, I'm old enough to know that now. My outcome isn't everyone elses. My outcome isn't even always my own. Some people don't need to believe in monogamy. Some people don't believe in it at all. But I do. I need them both. Because that's home, and where it all started. And for while, for more than just a few years in my life, it was all I knew. Before I knew all about everything else. There shouldn't be any mistaking. I'm where I am because that's where I want, and choose to be. With who I want to be with. Both of them.
But sometimes?
Sometimes, one mouth can only ever cover one other at once. And we can only cast our eyes in one other direction, into one field of you. And try and anyone might, and lord knows I've tried this last part. We can only ever say one name at a time. Words get tangled up in each other all the time, and something always gets lost in the translation. One word at a time, one name at a time. One that always has to come first.
Because sometimes there's just only room for two.
