To his feet

    There he was, so tired... and I understood it but I just thought words wouldn’t be of much help at the moment. I wondered whether he would see as weird what I was about to do or not... still I felt the urge to do it.

    I sat down to his feet, with my face facing his knees, while looking at him, who was looking to his right, and I held his hands and kissed them. 

    Everything seemed, somehow, dreamy but a bit awkward to me, why was I sitting down to his feet? I could had sit down next to him and hug him as I did so many times before; instead here I was, sitting down to his feet as I imagined myself so many times and kissing his porcelain’s hands. Whether I was offering loyalty to my lord, promising eternal love to my beloved, or begging forgiveness to my master, I had no idea at this point, it just felt right. With him, it felt right.

    He looked at me, and for a second I wondered what to expect, surprisingly enough he just kissed my hands back and I felt understood and respected. I couldn’t understand well what was going on, but what he did made me feel understood, if that makes any sense... it makes sense to me in any case.

    Then I wondered if I should remain there, just looking at his eyes, while he was looking into mine. His eyes... how beautiful I always found the depth of his eyes, and the embracing sadness in them; sometimes, some sparkles of joy would appear in them too and that was enough. 

    After all, this life wasn’t mean to be perfect nor always happy, therefore as long as I was able to see some sparkles at times, I thought I was doing decent enough as his wife. Decent enough? Certainly I thought I was doing decent enough, but that didn’t mean I was actually doing it, that was for him to decide. I could only tell whether he was doing good enough as a husband or not, and for me he was the best husband in the world. I am not going to say everything was perfect between us, but everything was going on, and after two years of marriage he was still bearing with me, now that was remarkable for me. 

     

     On the other hand it didn’t matter how many good dishes I’d try to prepare for him, nor how clean the house would remain, it didn’t matter how pretty I’d always try to look for him nor how many articles I’d read about topics I am not truly interested in just to be able to have a conversation that’s sufficiently intellectually-stimulating for him; it seemed I always had to do more, no matter how many times he’d praise me.

      Who could put up with all my moods as wonderfully as he always did? Who could handle my silence with such patience? Who could understand my ways  as good as him? The time we spent apart allowed me to meet many people that was willing to do so much for me, people that was good and understanding, but no matter how much other tried, I never felt as good as I did with him. I never felt like lying to anyone’s feet but his, I never felt like serving any other man than him, I never felt like loving and devoting myself to any other man than him. I still wonder if he felt something similar with me or with other women.

      I started sobbing, suddenly a burst of emotions occured without warning and the coldness of the air shake me out, I felt scared and alone but it last nothing because in no time he was hugging me and calming me down. I smelled him and the warmth of his body was so comforting... I wanted to stay like that forever, with the safety of his love. I wanted him to give me that forever, I do, even now.