The Final Piece

A follow-up post to “A Letter To My Puzzle Pieces” (http://www.icouldntmakethisshitupblog.com/2011/11/14/a-letter-to-my-puzzle-pieces/).

I believe that people are each unique pieces in a puzzle that makes up the overlapping lives of many individuals.  Some fit, some do not.  Some are distant and connect only by way of others in the bigger picture.  But then there are those that match perfectly.  That must unite to complete the puzzle.  Often, they’re not an easily identifiable pairing.  It requires searching, trial and error, completing other parts of the puzzle to gain clues…and sometimes you just need a break.  Giving yourself a moment to refresh.  And stepping back to the puzzle that is your life, you may have a whole new perspective.  A clearer one.

My letter from 2 years ago (link above) served one primary purpose; it was a therapeutic way for me to hone in on what I needed to feel complete.  I had my family and I had my friends, but I had an overwhelming urge to complete the puzzle.  And sometimes I forced it a bit…tried to make things work when I knew deep down they just wouldn’t.  The pieces didn’t fit.  It was never desperation that got the better of me, it was just a ravenous search for completion.  An unrealistic need for perfection that permeates many facets of my life.  At some point, I realized I needed to take a step back.  I needed to stop trying any piece that stood out to me, and begin a more methodical search for something that made sense.  My edges were beginning to fray, and if I didn’t make a change, I would lose my shape never knowing what my true match might be.

So now, one year later, my puzzle is complete.  And here is a letter to my puzzle piece.  The final one.  The one I needed.  The one that fit right into the small gap in my life with the greatest of ease.  The one that I now know as my husband.

Dear Puzzle Piece,

You are it.  You are the joke that makes me laugh.  You are the kiss that makes me smile.  You are the annoying wet towel that’s always left on the bathroom counter.  You are the chef that feeds me on days when I rely on emotional eating to console me.  You are the hugs that melt me.  are the ass I like to slap.  You are the reminder so I don’t forget my car keys.  You are the brain that counters mine.  You are the hands that wander endlessly.  You are the thoughtful that keeps me confident.  You are the sleep that I lose and x-rated fun that I gain.  You are the help I won’t admit to needing sometimes.  You are the jock that I drool over.  You are the honesty that I crave.  You are the dork that keeps me silly.  You are the flowers that I said I wasn’t into but loved receiving.  You are the Sunday bacon-maker.  You are the last bite thief.  You are the stupid that dumped me for a second, as well as the heart that brought you back.  You are my ability to feel beautiful when I have a zit.  You are my CrossFit trainer.  You are the fun that I have everyday.  You are the gray hair that I adore and the shaved head I can’t stay away from.  You are the extra income that will contribute to my need for artwork and shoes.  You are the step-dad my son looks up to, and the father my daughter adores.  You are the dude my ex can’t hate.  You are the candy buyer that feeds my bad habits.  You are the prickles that scratch my neck.  You are the “goodnight” that I never go without.

Without you, I’m me.  Which is awesome, but not as awesome as me with you.  I can only imagine the rest of my life with you.  I picture our house and our family and our holidays forever, and it makes me feel a little like a giant girly sissy-pants.  Everyday with you will be one I’m thankful for.  Unless you make me super mad or don’t let me have my way.  Then I might pout for a bit and feel sorry for myself until I remember once again that you are it.  We’re gonna pop each others European cherries, ride some freakin scary roller coasters, and pee our pants laughing at things nobody else finds humorous.  Our love will rival the greatest of romances.  You’ll let me be a little OCD and continue to make a mess just to keep me on my toes.  I will stretch you out when you have a pulled groin, but while I’m doing so I’ll lecture you about your inability to take it easy.  I’ll boss you, and you’ll boss me, and I’ll boss you a little extra, and in the end it won’t matter because we’d do anything for one other anyway.  I’ll correct your grammar and you’ll correct my olympic lifts.  You will grab my boobs and I will slap your hand and then we’ll do it.  You’re not what I expected.  You’re not even what I thought I wanted.  But you’re everything I needed and more.  And things will be stupendous.  Some days much less than, some days much more than.  But we’ll do everyday together.  And we will live happily ever after.  Cause now that I found my missing piece, I kinda believe in that shit.  I love you.

Sincerely,

your wife, AbiAnn

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