My husband is vacuum lines and streak free windows. I am candy wrappers stuffed into couch cushions and socks lost under the bed covers.
He is clean laundry, unfolded.
I am clean laundry folded but un-put-away.
He is car keys hanging on the designated hook; bills filed neatly and paid on time. I am the contents of my purse spilled over the kitchen counter, seeking the keys four minutes before I have to leave. I am cash stuffed into pants pockets and forgotten until the next wearing.
He is things "put away" on shelves that nobody can reach; tater tots, served proudly as hor dourves. I am organizational bins and baskets, clearly labeled, and sensibly located; party bowls on theme, appetizers galore.
He is present at all events with not a photo to show for it and fingers too big to fashion a two year-old ponytail. I am candid photographs of any and all significant moments uploaded in a timely manner; patiently styled braids in Rapunzel Barbie's hair.
He is 2 miles run on speed 7, I am 6 miles at speed 4.5.
When I first saw him I knew. A feeling so sure that it was unsettling. I knew I would never again be the same. A change in the gravitational pull of my world. A shift, as something new became the center of my life. I have had this feeling a few times since that day, three times to be exact.
There are some things that I don't question. I just take for granted that they are as they were intended to be. We are one of those things.
My husband is a declaration. I am a question.
But together are an exclamation.