Your Word
By Dillon Collins
I have it heard it said by a very smart man that I highly respect that "your word is your reputation, your word is your bond, your word is power. Use it wisely."
And I sympathize with that, because you see, when I was young I never wanted to promise anyone that I would do anything at all. I always wanted to hide away wherever I could hide away even if it was in a public bathroom stall. I was always afraid that someone would ask me to be there for them. Wishing with all my heart that no one would be counting on me. Because its to easy to let them fall.
I Was not the man to ever ask to be there. I was never one to care. Every time I got hurt by another, I would move a little slower. I was always turning over the idea in my head that if I went through to many more bad relation pirate ships that I turn into a ninja turtle. Except without the ninja-ee crime fighting... Stuff. So I could just pull my head in to my shell, like tucking my arms into my sleeves and my head into the hood of a cozy fashionably tattered oversized hoody... Only reaching out far enough to sip with my lips the straw on my tallest blond cow espresso.
Hide hide away If only for a few minutes. Long enough to regain my sanity but not long enough to fully recover, and definitely not long enough to arouse supposition that I might not be exactly what the world widely considers to be normal. Normal..?. It seems like we never quite realize that everyone is just as screwed up as we are, just as afraid to look into the eyes of the person opposite them and promisethey will be there. And mean it. Mean it when they say "you can call me anytime, day or night." And at 4:45a.m., Just late enough to be really annoying, but just early enough to have to stay up the rest of the day when it rings.... Pick Up The Phone...
I can think of only one promise that I've made in the years of my life that I had to choke back tears while I said it. Because I knew I was so incredibly blessed to be able to make it... To you.
This is what I said... Dearest Wife, I will never be able to tell you how much you mean to me because words don't exist for that kind of love. I will have to show you. You are the woman of my dreams and the light of my life. God has blessed me immeasurably to place you in my life. I vow to treasure you, and respect you, and protect you with all the strength and abilities God has seen fit to bless me with. I vow to continue to train my heart, and guard my eyes to be for you, and for you alone. And lastly, I vow to continue to love you as we embark on this next grand adventure in our lives. And thank you, for loving me back... I love you.
I still choke on the words of promises like, I will love you forever, and I promise I will take care of you. Not in any way, shape, or form because I don't mean them. But purely because every time I say them, I am impressed with the powers of my words... Promises, and the words that create them are like bricks. You can only tell their quality, and the quality of their crafter after they have been tested in fire. And brick after brick that passes through the flames without cracking can be added to a wall. But this wall is not designed to keep out people, and therefore pain and rejection and fear. This wall is made to keep people in... love... And every kiss and tender look adds a run to a ladder that lets you climb to the top of the wall to see how far you've come. And where you've been. And it's an amazing realization that if we continue with our promise bricks we can't help but reach the stars.
It's startling how somewhat quickly I decided that I've always liked the way you look at night, not because its dark out but because your hair was made for moonlight. And the flickering light of the campfire on your soul windows is just the right amount of breathtaking mystery to leave me speechless. So long story short, I've found I'm not so deathly afraid to make promises anymore. It's not so frightening to be relied upon, by you. You see, it's only because I have you, and I trust you completely, that I got this...
