Moving Out and In

I stood outside the door as Faith hugged her Dad goodbye. Though my home (where we'll be putting up for a while) is only five minutes away, it felt different walking down the stairs this time. A deep sadness hung in the air and we both felt like we hurt the people we loved. It was almost as if our union tore the family apart. The house would now be so much emptier; and her smile would no longer light its halls.
I felt selfish for having taken her away for myself.
It feels strange not having to pick up the phone to talk to her. We've grown so accustomed to the nightly (and often morningly and afternoonly) ritual of dialing each other's phone number and listening to each other's voice through a handset.
I just discovered that I can no longer sleep with the fan blowing in my face. She doesn't like the direct blast of air, prefering instead to bounce it off a nearby wall. Even after twelve years, she still fascinates me to no end.
She sleeps behind me while I put one of those D.I.Y. wardrobes together. I hang up her clothes one by one and am amazed at how small they are. They seem almost like doll's clothes. I feel so blessed for having been chosen to love and protect her as long as we both live.
Being married is a surreal feeling. It feels like we went to someone elses' wedding, and the reality of being married to each other hasn't seem to have set in yet. Or maybe it had twelve years ago.

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