Home

You are my Home.

I know that now. But I don't know if I truly knew that back when we said our I do's.

I had an idea. An idea created before I stepped into the world. An idea created before time and challenge could teach me what truly matters.

Only on reflection can I realise that what I thought was important back then, missed the mark. My heart was in the right place, it was just young and naive, kinda like the two of us. Not that I didn't love you, I most definitely did, but just that I didn't really know what that meant.

Time has never changed my feelings but it has reworked them. Moulding, reshaping, and kneading. It's pulled apart the pieces and reassembled them over and over. Distilling the original brew, until the true essence was finally found.

My home.

The place I feel safe. The place I feel loved. The place I feel comfortable. And the place where I don't have to hide.

You're there when I need you. Through the good and the bad. And no matter how rough it gets, if you're with me, it is always easier to bear.

You accept me, baggage and all. Pile upon pile of disappointments and hurts. Walls built to protect and to hide. But slowly you've unpacked them or put them in their place.


I know I'm not easy to live with. I can be opinionated and at times, unreasonable. My temper, well that may best be described as fiery. And I am stubborn to a fault. I expect you to read my mind and my moods like a fortune-teller, and get angry when you don't. I am more than a little left of centre and live in a world of my own half the time. And I know I frustrate you. Yet despite it all, you are here. Yet despite it all you still love me.

I owe you. More than I can ever express. The last seven years have been hard, not just for me, but for you. Life threw us a curveball and we had to learn to deal with it on the run.

There have been far more downs than ups. But in many ways, it is easier now. What could have broken, has instead strengthened. Things are more stable, even though the circumstances have become rockier.

After so long together there is a rhythm that is just ours. An unspoken language, knowing looks, the finishing of each others sentences, and laughing at shared jokes. All born by times passage and experiences shared.

You are both best friend and lover. Champion and partner in crime.

You reign in my frantic nature, whilst supporting me in all I want to do.

You know me better than anyone and for some baffling reason still, want to be with me.

I don't say thank you enough for all you have given. But I'm grateful every day that you are here.

So

Thank you for letting me know that it's okay to be me.

Thank you for being there to wipe my tears or hold me tight.

Thank you for making me laugh when I can least find something to laugh about.

Thank you for letting me know what it's like to truly feel loved and supported.

Thank you for two beautiful sons.

Thank you for letting me know family.

And thank you for letting me know the true meaning of the word home.

Because you are, and will always be, my home.

Happy 20th Wedding Anniversary, Mr Grumpy.

I Love You

Michelle xx

I loved The Cure's original version of this back in the day, but really love this cover by Adele.

Happy 19th Wedding Anniversary, Mr Grumpy!

I've always done things a bit differently. Whilst most of my friends were at uni, travelling or partying I took a different path. At 17, I met Mr Grumpy. By 19, we were engaged. At 20, we were married. At 21, I gave birth for the first time. By 25, I was a mum of 2. The media tells me this is wrong. That we are doomed to fail. Yet today as I type Mr Grumpy and I are celebrating our 19th wedding anniversary. 

(Good lord we were young)

I know we're lucky. Particularly, with me being ill. Divorce rates are bad enough, but add in illness or injury, and divorce rates sore. I am grateful everyday, when I read about the marriage breakdowns on the forums, that Mr Grumpy is by my side. I don't know if I could do this every day without him.

He's not just my husband. He's the father of my children. My lover. My best friend. And now my carer.  As corny as it sounds, he is the love of my life.

That's not say, it's all been beer and skittles. We've had ups and downs, and fought like cats and dogs. But in the end, and when it really mattered, we've always been there for each other.

The past six years that I've been ill have changed and tested our relationship in many ways. I'm not the person I was before. I know I'm damn hard work at times. Our plans for the future were turned upside down and life went into free fall for a while. Illness does that. It changes you emotionally and psychologically. it challenges your relationships with the ferocity of a pit bull. It changes you both mind, body and soul. Nothing can prepare you for the reality of that challenge.

And yet despite it all, he goes out of his way to make me feel loved and cherished. He looks at me like I'm still 17 and makes me feel worthy and special, even when I feel it least. Whatever has happened during the day, no matter how sick I am, when he holds my hand as we go to sleep I never fail to feel safe and loved. What more can you ask for?

So happy anniversary Mr Grumpy. The road may not have been quite so straight as we planned. And there may be a bucket load of pot holes. But I am glad you are by my side as we stumble along.

I have written about Mr Grumpy a few times over the years. He's a pretty good guy when it comes down to it.
Chick Flick Moment
You Get Less For Murder
Twenty Years

Michelle :)

Twenty Years

Twenty years ago today Mr Grumpy and I went on our first date.

I've known him for more than half my life.

It's hard to wrap my head around that.

Then.

Nervous laughter.  Mumbled words.   Furtive glances.   Attraction.  Uncertainty.

20 years would have seemed laughable to us both.

Now...

His presence is comfort.

No need for fancy words. No need for overt demonstrations of love.

Silence is embraced, not feared.

A simple touch.  Our fingers entwined.  His hand on my leg.  My head on his chest.

He laughs at my jokes and I at his.

Even though we each know the others repertoire by rote.

We are both wider.

Grayer.

Saggier.

Youth has been replaced by 'character'.

Yet when he looks at me I'm still that 17-year-old girl, and he still that 18-year-old boy.

There are no words worthy to describe the bond created through those 20 years.

It is a creature born of time.

Of anger.  Of tears.  Of laughter.  Of love.

Thousands of fibres intertwined.

No beginning.  No end.  Ever changing.

I read an article recently about a Sliding Doors life.  About making choices too early.  About whether we would make the same choices given our time over.

As I write, there is a single, long-stemmed, red rose sitting in front of me.

20 years later, and he still remembers that first date.

There is no choice to be made.

Michelle :)