Do you see the far left of this picture and how it becomes naked and bare and sad and lonely and cheese-less?
That is my life.
Wait, it’s not MY life rather, but my husband’s life.
It’s not really his LIFE LIFE. He has a good life. I mean, I’m in it, hey-ohhhhhh! Oh.
I’m not trying to say his life is naked and bare and sad and lonely. But that end of the dish, with no cheese on it, is Aaron’s life.
Let me try this again.
The things I experience in my life and the sacrifices I’m forced to make build character within my soul. Some sacrifices that go unappreciated, unnoticed, alone in the desert under the harsh, blazing sun that whither up like the leathery skin of an iguana.
The lengths we go to, as humans, to show love and honest lukewarm support to those around us with less fortunate palates, but with good hair. It’s a tough road. A taxing journey.
Sometimes the days are long with no end in sight. And sometimes we carry the burdened load of our forefathers and ancestors from the underworlds. But we do it all with a smile. A half smile. A smirk. A whisper of a half smirk.
The extra miles we travel, both on weary feet and in our heavy hearts, lead us to a brighter land full of infinite wisdom, clarity and unicorns.
This is my life. And Aaron’s life. But neither of us. But both of us.
What I’m trying to say is that he doesn’t like cheese and I’ll never understand it and that’s why his side is naked and bare and sad and lonely!
But I’m sure you’re like, DUH.
I’ve never said, “happy ___.” Did that work on me? I feel weird I think.