Modulate your voice, my father told me. A man doesnt want an intellectual sparring partner, he warned. He wants comforts."And it reminded me to be glad, once again, for Kevin. Who, even when we're in the midst of a series of long, drawn-out, tense arguments (about, of course, housework), can stop to tell me that he likes this about me. I'm not certain I can say exactly what 'this' is -- it seemed clear in context, but that was several days ago. Some of it, I think, is being an intellectual sparring partner, one who can't help pushing arguments as far as they seem to logically go. Trying to hammer at the problem until it breaks apart in our hands. Even when it's exhausting for us both.
Of course, I'm not downplaying the need for and value of comfort. Comfort is a very fine thing indeed. But in a relationship, I want to give and get both. The good, solid fight, and the refuge afterwards.
I got lucky.
I was moved by this:
“There are times when the simple act of growing up requires a betrayal. Sarty knew it; I lived it. When you have a parent both adored and maddening, their madness encases you, defines and delimits you. When you cut the umbilical cord, opening your mouth to find your voice, you find that you are out in the cold. “