Yes

Love is a choice, not a feeling.

Today I choose to love my husband. Today I choose my family and all its hassles over the whatever that is out there. Because the whatever is not for me..

My mom always said my grandfather must have had gypsy blood because he loved to move around. I used to think about this as a little girl and I thought once I had a place of my own I'd never want to move. But now I find this is not true. And in fact I've spent the last 6-12 months of my life thinking of nothing but moving around. Some women fantasize about other men -- Ben Affleck or the dude in the coffee shop. I fantasize about quiet little loft apartments, neatly furnished and easy to clean.

A few days ago I came one sentence away from that little apartment. I say one sentence but it was really just one word, yes or no.

He asked me, "What is it that you really want to do? Do you want to stay or not?"

All that is selfish in me, all that wanders away from the keyboard and the kitchen sink to other lives lived elsewhere, the old me, worldy and gypsy -- wanted to say "no". But somehow I found myself forming the word "yes". Yes to sinks full of dishes, to shimmying washing machines, to weeds in the backyard. To listening to his breathing in deep sleep. To sending a daughter to Europe when I would rather go myself. Yes to clothes on the floor and yes to the house that we thought we would have sold and moved away from by now. Yes to forgiveness for all my hurts, both real and imagined. Forgiveness 70 x 7.

Maybe the gift of a mature relationship is the realization that not everything that I need can or will come from him but some things must. I can talk about books and film and history with other people. I can have dinner with girlfriends and a healthy career. And for unconditional love and acceptance I can go to God. But when it's time to go home, it's to him I will return because that is the deal I made. I swore before God to have him, for better or worse.

Yes. Yes. and Amen.