That Moderately Handsome Husband of Mine...

The Russian proverb goes as paganly as it can be: "A husband and a wife are one devil", bearing a direct reference, of course, to the most sacred book of the mankind: "...and shall cleave into his wife: and they shall be one flesh" (Gen. 2:23). I think I have already mentioned that unique spiritual blend of paganism, mysticism, eastern beliefs and Christianity in its splendid and grandeur case of Orthodoxy which makes up an ordinary religious vision of a commoner and explains the appearance of the proverb, but today it's nothing of a religion or of a commoner.
Today it's about someone very special... 



Some years ago (let's leave diachronic precision to the historians) in a far away land, in the most improbable circumstances, deep in the sweat of the work exhaustion, in a state as remote as it can be from any romance potentiality, despite all the odds, in the middle of my relatively set and content life, I am meeting a moderately handsome man - "my heart's desire", "an apple of my eye", "a flesh of mine", "my bread of life" and "the fat of my land" and so much more... whatever that above-mentioned Holy book may produce on the case.

Many things have happened since, and a lot of water passed under the bridge. As two pawns on the tricky checked field of a relationship we have suffered both our losses and our victories and certainly walked a long way to the other side of the board in understanding each other. Almost a year of a long-distance relationship with its inescapable emotional roller-coaster (to be honest, mine mostly), smoothed by the exuberant means of communication complimentary of the XXI century made the first years together Heaven on Earth (hence so many biblical references here). Then we became fruitful and multiplied and brought a brand new little human being into this wicked world.

And then we got wed. In the church. Twice. In two religions and in front of one God. Let no man therfore put asunder, yt which God hath coupled together.

But what I want to say, really, what I need to say now, is that I am grateful to him, to my moderately handsome man. And as now he sits on the couch, remote and deep in a silly movie, with a silly smile understandably provoked by the same silly movie (you know, that boyish "I-am-so-cool-fighting-aliens-with-my-laser" type), which he is so fond of watching, and has no idea that I am writing about him...

So, my love, there it goes:

I am grateful to you that you came to the (literary) End of the World in the temperature far below freezing point and common understanding and made us happen.

I am grateful that through that first dark year of a long-distant part of our relationship every day you were leaving "a morning message" for me. Always.

I am grateful that you always translate all those Danish movies that we watch together, even when sometimes I am not much interested.

I am grateful to you that you can make any call for me, and take me any place.

I am grateful that every day you try to make my life better.

I am grateful that you accept my neuroticims, depressions, and complexities with the exceptional sense of humour which kills it all.

I am grateful that you accept my mother (boy, that says it all, doesn't it?)

I am grateful that you take me as I am (basically, as my mother).

I am grateful to you to put Katya to bed and wake up with her when I do not even ask.

I am grateful to you for all the excellent food that you can cook from scratch.

I am grateful that you motivate me for something which I would have not even dreamt of doing otherwise.

I am grateful that you always believe in me.

I am grateful that in the quarrels, as stubborn as you are, you always come and hug me first.

I am grateful for you always patiently listening to whatever verbal emotional (not always, but mostly) trash I have to produce on the remains of the day.

I am grateful to you for Katya, who would have never existed if it were not for you.

I am grateful that you are an excellent father: loving, understanding, fun, caring and strict.

I am grateful to you for finding my apple earphones yesterday (seriously).

I am grateful that you show me better.

I am grateful that by your actions, decisions and thoughts you teach me to be better.

I am grateful that you love me (and I try not to take it for granted).

I am grateful to you that you are what you are...


Long time ago a rather mystical scenario ran out in the streets of my native city, when quite an elderly lady that I helped to come all the way home asked me what I want in the life most. My inborn sobriety, skepticism and politeness replied in chorus that I was quite content with what I had. In a proverbial pause, effect strengthened by a deep look, she said that I would soon get my halves back together, hinting in an obvious way on the romantic aspect of being, which I scoffed out, but apparently remembered, setting somewhere on the depth of the consciousness.

Years passed. In a relationship like this one, as close to perfection as it can be, one can easily allow to remember and cherish that episode with a witch. So, my dear single girls, there's an answer: open thy eyes and look for the old ladies around. Quite possibly most of them are just ordinary old ladies, who will benefit greatly from your help, but the beauty of it - you never know...


To conclude I, hereby, call upon you, commoners: let's eat, drink and be merry, as my cup runneth over - today is my husband's birthday!

Happy birthday, my love! And thank you for being with me.



...and seriously, just so you know: there's absolutely nothing moderately about him!
(you know what I mean ;-)




Copyright © 2013 by Olga Johannesson