Why I Write

My husband asked me the other night, over some pretty good Chinese food, if I was happy about moving back to the big city. "Yes," I said decisively.

Would I do anything differently? "If it were just me," I said, "I wouldn't have considered living out here, I'd be back in my old neighborhood. But it's not just me, and thanks to you, I get to watch the sun rise over the water every morning. Other than the commute, it's really good."

How about work? "It's no secret that I loved my job when I was here before. But since going back to my old office wasn't an option, I think I landed in a great place. It doesn't feel at all like a second choice."

What about at home, would I rather have a different husband? "No," I said. "If I hadn't married you, I wouldn't have gotten married. I'd be pretty much the same girl I was when I met you, just a couple years older and a couple years more cynical."

And it's true. I can't imagine my life without him in it, but by the same token, I don't want to always wonder why he betrayed me, or to obsess over whether he'll do it again. I started the blog to help organize my thinking about these things. Even in my journal, my thoughts tended to scatter all over the place and I couldn't make any sense of it. For some reason, the possibility of an audience forced me to slow down, to step back from the big picture, to dissect the component parts. I still haven't found THE TRUTH, but I think I'm closer to understanding a lot of things than when I started.

Bottom line, I write because I love my husband.


The Wife Who Knows.