Candie Crush (Letter 1)

Dear Yaa, 

Remember when we were kids and I made you an art piece that read “I LOVE YOU”? It is funny when I remember how smart I thought I was being by trying to be discreet about my feelings. All that time I was transparent and easily readable. I mean, art piece aside, my eyes would “glaze” anytime I saw you. I would  moon and swoon over you until it was time for your visiting family to leave. 

I told myself even then, at that young age, that you were the one, the one I was going to marry. My one true love, my heart pumped and thumped anytime you’d hold my hand. A friendly gesture then but you always knew. You knew how giddy I would get when you smiled, the anguish in my soul when your dad disciplined you to correct the stupidity that lies at the center of every child’s heart. You knew even the bliss and surreality I felt the few times we had supper from the same plate. 

You were so bright and would help me with my French homework. Where did you learn to speak French so fluently at that early age? I remember one time you followed me to the Saturday class in school. You caught the eyes of everyone with your charm and grace then you conjugated the verb “Avoir” and all these idiotic classmates of mine thought they could have you. Hmph! But you didn’t suffer my jealousy because you wouldn’t let it be. You gave me all the attention that swelled my pride. You knew even back then how to take care of me. So through our teen years to college I never fell for another woman. 

You’ve always known, you are smart. You’ve always been smarter than I. Maybe, that is why I am slightly braver than I should be about this. Maybe I trust you too much. Or maybe I’m  being selfish knowing that this, this thing would hurt you but I can’t help but get you involved. Who else to hold my hand but you, my wife? 

My wife of three years…my beautiful wife. I look at you sleeping and smile. You’ve brought me so much happiness. You look so peaceful. A trait my owlish self does not possess. You softly snore through the hours of the night and I’m irritated by it. I shouldn’t be, I know. I have long admired the rhythm of your snore. But tonight my thoughts are intruded upon and my heart is troubled. Everything I ever believed about you, about us is being questioned, I think I’m falling in love Yaa and it’s with this small-waisted, round-hipped beast of a woman. 

I can’t win…