I wonder how I'll answer when my child someday asks about my first wife. Staring back at
the blue eyes that inquisitively posed the question, I'll only have a few moments to
decide what to share. I guess I could tell him she was a liar. A woman who broke every
promise she made to me and to our God. Or I could tell him she was weak. A woman who
auctioned off her integrity to feed emotion and desire. Then again, I could tell him of
her insensitivity. Like the day I sat by the phone for sixteen straight hours waiting
for an expected phone call that would never come. Perhaps I could tell him of her cruelty.
The way she made no effort to hide or disguise phone calls to her co-adulterer, all the
while knowing I was one step from suicide. Then there's always the selfishness. The way
she calmly brushed aside her relationship with friends, family, and faith to pursue impropriety.
I guess I could recall her shallowness. How she sacrificed her character along with all the people
who looked up to her simply for a feeling. Of course, there always greed. I could recall for
him the way she made me give her a check for $15000 after causing more pain and damage to
my mind and heart than anyone else was capable of.

But strangely enough, when that day comes, I don't think any of those words will leave
my mouth. I think I'll tell him about a 14 year old girl I once knew. About her hand
that gently fit into mine on that bus ride back from church camp. I think I'll tell him
about her faith. How even when everyone she looked up to thought her crazy, she still
chose to cling to a man named Jesus. And then I'll tell him about her sensitivity. The
way she would seek out people in our Sunday school class who were alone and spend whatever
time was neccessary to make them feel special. Maybe I'll talk about her generosity. The
extravagent gifts she loved to give knowing full well she wouldn't recieve half in return.
Perhaps I'll speak of her beauty. How the person she was inside made her outside a
wonderland of grace. And I'll tell him about her love. How she took a short, stuttering,
and scared young man, and allowed him to share a piece of her life.

I imagine those bewildered little eyes will stay locked on mine as the inevitable question
comes next. Where did she go? I'll stare off through a nearby window as if searching
and even half expecting to find her before answering. I'll lift him on my lap and hold
him close. And with his head on my chest I'll tell him the truth. One day, she just
left and someone else moved in. Someone I didn't know anymore. And I can't explain where
that 14 year old girl with beautiful blue eyes went, but I know she's sad. I know she
wishes she could once again occupy that body and fill this world with a little more
happiness.

And with that, I'll give him a small kiss on the cheek and assure him I'm not going anywhere.

<small>[ April 02, 2003, 04:06 PM: Message edited by: roman77 ]</small>