We had been fighting for as long as I could remember.
We fought about everything. It seemed then that the only way
we knew how to interact with each other was to fight.
Heck, for the longest time, we could not even agree on the
status of our relationship. (I hear our
friends chuckle in agreement!)
So when I got pregnant with Qube, I assumed people were
happy. Well, at least the few people we usually bother with our petty fights. I
could imagine them heaving a sigh of relief, saying “now the fighting stops.”
Surprise, surprise! It did not. Not that I had any illusions,
to begin with. If anything changed, it’s the fact that we now have more things
to fight about.
And during these fights, I swear I feel really happy and
relieved that we have no marriage papers to keep us from leaving each other.
So, one day, I told you this: “I love you sometimes, when we are not fighting.”
And you said:
“I love you, even when we are fighting. That’s how we are different.”
I choked.
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