The Box

I found it. The box. You know the one I mean. That little box he keeps that has all the notes and cards from the ones who broke his heart. There are boxes with his porn he doesn't want you to find, but I already know about that. This box, I knew it was around somewhere and I almost never wanted to see/find it. Before you judge, I think he must have wanted me to see it. He asked me to help him organize some stuff. That was among the stuff I happened to go through. I didn't really poke or prode around. I glanced at a couple cards. I'm not sure what I was expecting to see. There were long letters where they told him how amazing and patient he was. There were little hearts. Some people told him what a great dad he was going to make someday. I laughed when he walked in the room and I just said that I assume this wasn't something I needed to worry about. He smiled and put it back on a shelf where it will collect dust until a night he pulls it down to read about all the loves of his past. When I think about it I know he is a man who might do that.

It causes one to pull together for a few moments and wonder what we are doing together. If admit out loud that I have fallen in love with him I would not only doubt myself but I might scare myself. I've done this many times over these months with him. I look at him and I know that I want to be there but I don't know if he does. Maybe that's why I stay, because I'm not ready to have someone know. The longer we are together the more I notice little "problems" bubble to the surface. Not big ones, not ones with us together, but ones from my past. Do I really believe the he would sneak out one night and sleep with another woman while I was asleep in his bed? No, I know he would never do that but when I wake up in a cold sweat, sleepy and delerious, it is almost impossible to stop myself from accusing him of just that. Because someone did once. Someone hurt me in all those ways and sometimes I wonder how much longer it will be until I can simply forget. Or heal. And when will he? Because if one of us doesn't do it soon there won't be an "us", not now not ever.

He will make a great dad though. He'd make a great dad and a great husband to someone, someday. I hope at least one of my notes, not nearly as long or detailed as some of the others he's had, makes it into that box. I hope he knows somehow when he reads them that it takes all my heart to write anything at all. It's so hard to give out emotions when you are afraid nothing is ever made to last.

But it's Sunday, not a day I should be worrying about this. I can think about it another day, another time. I'm glad I have the box out of the way though, it was harder easier than I thought it would be.