Page 11 - The Houseguest

wearing a simple silken gown with a crowned veil of baby’s breath and daisies. Karina never wore much makeup. She would say, like her words, she wanted to be perceived as authentic, transparent, real. But this day, she made an exception and wore a hint of blush and some mascara. To me, she was beautiful either way, and her desire for genuineness and truthfulness only deepened the love I felt for her.
For the first time in my life, I worried. I worried constantly that something could happen to this utopia I’d never envisioned myself living. I had never experienced such a powerful sense of vulnerability, nor will I ever allow myself to feel it again. It seemed as though the unique idiosyncrasies that in time, serve to push other couples apart, only brought us closer. She would slurp the remaining milk left in the cereal bowl, and after a hundred times of hearing this, it never annoyed me. In fact, quite the opposite. Her lovable quirks only made her more unique to me and I felt honored to be the one learning of her eccentricities and foibles. I only hoped she felt the same about mine, which were numerous.
At times she would share with me her writings, mostly at night when things were quiet and the whole world, as far as we were concerned, consisted of whatever room we were in together.
Often, I would turn to her words when facing challenges and hardships. Even in the rare occurrence when we did have a disagreement, there was comfort and guidance to be found in her verses:
“Like a tornado, anger will destroy that which comes into its path
The Houseguest by Linda Ellis www.LindaEllis.life
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