On Being Small

The emerald is small, square, surrounded by tiny diamonds, and he spent what little we had to buy it, to put a vision around my neck.

When I had confessed an affair, and everything we knew about ourselves felt like a lie, I stood soaking wet outside the shower, grief dripping down. My shoulders in his hands, he asked my forgiveness, and he gave me mine.

And I wanted him forever, again, but he wouldn’t have me without spending it all so we could start from scratch, we making another promise before God, this time to keep.

… Continue Reading at (In)Courage.

  • February 7, 2011
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