I haven’t written much about Joshua. He is my constant now and seems ever unchanged because he is always there. Like a child, each day they grow but you don’t notice, they are with you every moment until you turn around and they are towering over you, their voice raspy and low, a teenage musk in your nose.

This has changed him. The affair… He is guarded, cautious, even more subdued… which is not hard to imagine in him. Even before, no one would have ever decribed him as social. And I am no butterfly by any means, but he is… socially akward shall we say… maybe not so far as to say socially inempt but akward certainly.

I wonder why it is so hard to see the memories I have of him… Is it because he stands before me? I see them from all other regions of my life, everything from first memories through all manners of pleasure or horror, each tinted with sight and smell, some even with taste, all with a sense of touch, fewer with sounds. But they are gray where he is involved, I wonder at this. Like a mother forgets the pain of birth, it simply fades away and she can not remember no matter her focus.

We met, I remember that, we sat on the back porch and I shared my paintings, that I remember too. I know the first time we kissed, and the first time we fucked (it wasn’t love making, it was hardly even fucking for that matter). I remember playing at the park with the kids, and watching an ER espisode that made me cry. I remember laying across his bed and studying for a class. Mixed in , there is some dancing at clubs, a concert or two, and sex interspersed throughout it all. But what I remember the most is that we worked… alot, hard, remodeling his house and then remodeling mine. Weeks and months and YEARS of work. We would joke that we were off to go on a date again at our favorite place, the Home Depot. It’s not very funny now….

I remember he proposed in much the same way as he first made love to me. It was a matter of course, an action to be taken, another thing to check off the list. Not a desire or yearning.

Five years into our relationship and he is sitting up in bed, a book in his hands. He lays it on his lap and looks at me with a question in his eyes. “What kind of ring do you want when I ask you to marry me?” I tease him… “Why, are you asking me to marry you???” He sticks his bottom lip out slightly, tilts his head a bit, and gives a small shrug to his shoulders, “Hmph… Sure.” I just look at him, annoyed perhaps with the nonchalant attitude, but I answer his first question anyways. “You know me; no diamonds, they make me think of suffering. No gold, too soft for the dirt, it would get scratched… maybe something simple, a Platinum ban with an inscription?”  He nods his head and goes back to reading…. I was not about to let him get away that easy. I tugged the book from his hands and sat down. “Are you serious?” I ask him, he nods that he is serious and reaches for the book. I pull it away “No! Damn it, if you are going to ask me, ASK ME!” He smiles a lopsided smile and nearly rolls his eyes. “Kimberley, will you marry me?” I smack him in the shoulder and say “Geesh, finally! Yes.” We spend a little while talking about it and then nod off to sleep.

Thinking about it now, I recognize it as another blank canvas moment that our life has always been made of. My friend Schona once told me that I get bored and that is the only reason I do what I do, to stir things up, to create energy and a little chaos, that I am not manic at all.  Simply bored. Maybe in a way she is right.  I’ve wanted to write about Joshua, to provide him with some honor on my blog, to lift him ever so slightly from the muck in which we both float. But only bland flavorless memories come to the surface, the parts that you want to skim off and toss aside with no value.