What We Keep

by Jennifer Millikin

“When we were together before, I wanted to be pretty for you. All the time. Not just physically, but every other way too. I wanted a life that was shiny, that looked good. And in doing so, I created a world where you could not be ugly with me.”

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about this. And it’s not ugliness. All the mistakes that make us human, they’re not ugly. They’re as beautiful as all the pretty things we do.”

“Every day we are alive, we are experiencing. The joy, the struggle, the strife. We take little bits of those experiences, and we walk on into the next day. We can’t control what happens around us, or what other people do, but we make choices. We choose the hurts we cling to, the truths and lies we allow to mold us and shape us. You can allow the shame you feel about your mistakes to weigh you down and keep you from growing, or you can pick out what lessons you want to learn from them, and keep those instead. It’s your choice.”

“I thought I was supposed to protect him. Like I was being selfless.” She shakes her head. “It’s the other way around. He was supposed to be selfless and protect me, but his grief crippled him in the parenting department. Our relationship is better now that I was honest about how I felt.”

“There’s a lot more life out there for you. Don’t hold yourself back because you think you don’t deserve more. If you’re not careful, you’ll become your own jailor.”

Everyone, at one point or another, hurts the person they love the most. How can we not? Real love demands we strip ourselves, and bare our souls. It is a vulnerable, messy affair, and nobody escapes unscathed. I think the point, at the end of the day, is to decide whether you can forgive Gabriel’s mistakes, and move forward. If the promise of the future is enough to make you forgive the past, then do it.”

“Where’s the fire?” I joke, nipping at her neck while she unlocks the front door. She turns around, winding a hand into my hair. “In here…” She taps two fingers over her heart. “Are you going to save me again?” I gently push her back against the door. It swings open and we fumble our way in. “How about I sit in the fire alongside you, and we let it smolder for the rest of our days?” “Fire.” She kisses me. “Smolder.” Another kiss. “Let it burn.”

I hope Gabriel sees how loved he is. How much he belongs, simply by being himself.

Some people claim love makes a person weak, but I disagree. Real love forces a person to do the hard work. It will ask you to get uncomfortable, to expose the wound, to confront what hurts you most. That requires strength. Fortitude. And above all else, compassion.