Before Faith’s parents’ place was undergoing renovations, there was a pretty thorough cleaning effort, and things that should have been forgotten weren’t (insert Lord of the Rings theme song here).
Over the last few nights Faith has been studiously reading through a set of diaries I wrote a lifetime ago. In an attempt to marry her I pulled all the stops: I gave her my past. All the deepest thoughts (you begin to realise how shallow your teenage psyche was), a collage of activities. All encapsulated in two books. The fact that she’s poring through them like she was taking the bar kinda scares me. I can’t for the life of me remember what I wrote then.
I named my diary Faith. I named her Faith because at that time I tknew there was a snowball’s chance in hell that I’d ever get the chance to confide in her, and her in me. I read the first entry of my second diary. I gave away my very first to my best man Eric when we were childhood buddies.
The first entry was spent explaining why I continued to name my diary Faith, and the deep yearning in my heart for us to even be normal friends. I had given up holding the torch for her. At that point in time, it seemed like I had been holding on for three years too many.
I wanted her to just be a friend, but from a quick browsing of the diary it looked like I couldn’t describe her without the word “lovely” being used alongside at least four other adjectives.
Turning myself to face the inside of our bed I see her sleeping. It has been a heck of a ride, and God had really been kind to us both.