Today is my wedding anniversary.
As usual,I'm the only one who remembers.
I know I should be used to it,from what I know about marriages it seems like men seem to have a tendency to forget some of those 'important dates'.
In our case though, our anniversary is th
(more)e same date his mother died.
He remembers that today is the anniversary of his mother's death. Yet somehow he still forgets it's our wedding anniversary.
The day we got married I had to wake him up so we could make it to the Mayor's office on time.
There were no flowers, no carrying over any thresholds, no honeymoon, just the repeating of vows and an exchange of gold bands which I purchased myself.
We went out to dinner after making it official and he drank enough to pass out as soon as we got home.
I spent my wedding night reading a book, ironically it was a bodice-ripping romance, the kind where men were written as cold yet passionate.
My husband has the cold down pat.
After we moved in with his mother for six months more than fifteen years ago, the dynamics changed. Where once upon a time I was near the top of the list, somewhere amidst the clutter, I was dropped off the list completely.
I just was.
I was the one who cleaned, cooked, an unpaid un-glorified secretary turned caretaker of a woman who hated me and made no secret of it.
One night,I asked to God to send me a sign concerning my so-called marriage,if she made it through the following day, our wedding anniversary,that would mean our marriage had a chance.
There were two deaths that day.
He never noticed that I stopped wearing my wedding ring nearly five years ago.
And he still hasn't.
(less)
