Where’d the Butterflies Go?

IMG_2632I sat in a frozen state with only my eyes shifting from the direction of our company policy which was begrudgingly thrown to the right of my computer screen, fingertips quickly dancing across the keyboard in an attempt to free myself from the jail cell of my desk, and my chest rising faintly to inhale enough air to exhale a loud sigh of aggravation due to having to send insurance underwriters a reinvented company policy statement. Donald stood over me chewing his lunch loudly and smacking his work-related orders for me to execute in between bites of his sandwich. He was dressed in tattered work clothes that showed their age in the seams and looked like they were worn by a man who knew no difference between a shirt and a shop rag.

Moving my eyes in his direction ever so slowly to portray my annoyance with his presence but also to acknowledge his requests, I fixed my sights on him and while making mental notes of his urgent professional needs, I thought of my own sustenance or lack thereof.

Where’d the butterflies go?

I couldn’t put a finger on the exact date on the calendar of when they left, when the cobwebs filled the space that once was vibrant with color or when the air became stale and stagnant due to the absence of air circulating pushed by the flapping of wings. I searched relentlessly for the memory of the last time I felt fire exploding, rushing up through my veins ignited by his fingertips tracing my skin, the feening for his conversation, to stay up all night in each others company not saying much but not wanting to fall asleep for fear of missing something.

I miss it..

I miss the intoxicated, neurotic energy of  discovering an uncharted body and mind. The adventure and challenge in assessing what was one’s preferences in touch and conversations. I miss the time and how it felt as if we held the hands still, never rushing through anything. I miss the gaze of pure infatuation, one that could not be broken due to another woman entering a room or something as insignificant as a phone call. I miss the infectious eagerness heard in his voice when he answered my phone call. I miss being simply a lover and friend, required only to execute the pleasures of body and mind. I miss the topics once discussed that have now been exchanged for work and children. I miss the late night desserts without discussing consequences of such indulgences. I miss my boyfriend.

But I love my husband.

Marriage is hard. People are ever evolving and your spouse may just be in the stage of his evolution that isn’t very alluring, but anything worth having doesn’t come easily. Stick by his side and help him shed his skin and admire the beauty that is after, knowing you had part in it. Don’t demand a timetable on how long it may take, diamonds take hundreds of years to form. True love is eternal.