1 More Day

To my wonderful husband. You’re the best. For me.


19 years
And 1 more day.
So exciting
To have made it all this way.

You’re not the same.
We’ve both grown.
We both changed.
Married to the wild unknown.

You’re not the man I chose.
But I’m glad to fall again.
I choose to love you over and over.
Not wish for way back when.

I didn’t know if we’d make it.
Some days I had my doubt.
Some days you wanted to leave,
Some days we both wanted out.

A daily choice is required
When loving someone so long.
You have to determine to love them
Even when they’re wrong.

You have to choose to love.
Even when it’s hard.
You have to love the ugly parts–
Even what’s wrecked and scarred.

We have to pick up the pieces
Of some other person’s mess.
Gluing back the broken bits
Can be a stressful process.

But you’re so very worth it
Because I am happy to see
When we’re put back together
It’s even better than we could dream to be.

All the cracks and chips
Are filled with precious gold.
Our gaps and imperfections
Are where our love is told.

It’s easy to love a nice person.
So what have you achieved?
Loving some who’s difficult
Is quite a feat indeed.

It’s easy to fall out of love.
Just as easy as falling in.
But it’s also easy to remember why
I stick through thick and thin.

You’re handsome, smart,
Funny and sweet.
Kind enough
To rub my feet.

Your heart is pure.
You’re loyal, true.
You have a heart for God.
You’re the best dad, too.

We don’t look the same,
But our brains remain for now.
I’m glad I also loved your mind
When we chose to make our vow.

19 years-we made it through.
I’m so happy we chose to stay.
I’m always thankful even if
We only have 1 more day.


Love you, my darling. Happy Anniversary.

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Making People

Each of these people
Were made by two parents.
Molded and shaped
By opinions, thoughts and variants.

These two people
Made four more humans.
They didn’t do it perfectly.
In fact, our family’s in ruins.

Their legacy was not premeditated.
Their good intentions paved the way,
To Hell and back and there again–
Four lanes without delay.

This kiss and marriage caught some place
Between Heaven and Hell.
A dark, rock-hard place between their love
Is where my childhood fell.

Like a photograph that floats down
Behind a dresser, trapped by wall.
Forgotten with time, buried by dust.
Neglected, unseen by all.

But.

Their love made me.
Shouldn’t I be thankful for this?
I couldn’t think of something more lovely
Than a passionate wedding kiss.

Thankful to be here. No matter what.

Wife

The clothes are washed.
The dishes are done.
Everything’s finished.
The course has been run.

To its bedtime,
I race the sun.
Hoping to remember,
“Leave nothing undone.”

But I fail.

I failed to love you
More than you deserve.
I failed to catch you
When you leapt off with nerve.

I failed to respond
With kindness and restraint.
I succeeded in failing
At withholding complaint.

I’m sorry.

It’s not a matter of racing to the end.
It’s not a matter of winning at life.
It is a matter of walking with purpose.
It is a matter of being a good wife.

I’m not a good wife to you
If I focus on all wrong you have wrought.
It would be better of me
To remember all good you have brought.

Thank you.

I struggle with fairness
And relinquishing grace.
I like to hold grudges,
Call attention to mistakes.

I’m trying so hard to be Perfect.
And I’ve missed the boat.
I should try harder to be Forgiving.
And erase the past someone else wrote.

I love you.

Domestic Violence

So, I’m writing a play. I’ve written two plays so far and this is my third. I started this really cool piece about domestic violence and shelter living for women. I had planned to offer as a charitable fundraiser for local DV shelters. Then I got derailed, the project stalled on the other end and I haven’t been back to it. I was hoping to share here for some feedback. Here is an excerpt, let me know your thoughts.


WOMAN 1: Yeah, even her husband acts this way. (Referring to WOMAN 2)

WOMAN 2: (Lights go down on group, WOMAN 2 comes down front) It’s true. She’s right. I mean, I don’t know if all men act this way, but my husband does. The only difference between her husband and mine is that he buys me a diamond ring to apologize. We never know what people are going through behind closed doors. I don’t wanna be here, but I have no place to go. My dad is gone, my mom is in assisted living. My kids are at college and the house is in his name. Everything is. Bank accounts, cars, houses. I don’t want any of it anyway. I never did. I only wanted him. And I wanted him to want me the same. The first time he hit me, we were in college. He was drunk and I was mad. He’d been flirting all night with our friend’s new girl. Kissing her on the hand?! Laughing at all her dumb jokes. After we left, I complained the whole way home. I’d never been so mad with him before and he did not like it. He didn’t say a word until we got to his apartment. He shut the door, it was dark, he cornered me and whispered, “Don’t you ever talk to me that way again.” He waited for a few seconds. I thought he was walking away and then he turned and knocked me silly. I never questioned him again. I’m not sure why I didn’t leave that night. I know I felt guilty for thinking the worst of him. That was the first time, but for sure not the last. When I said nothing at his flirtations and when I said nothing about his business dealings and when I didn’t interfere with the kids, he’d still find a reason to hit. Or choke. Or…humiliate. All alone, at night, in private. In our room. In bed. I don’t keep this ring because I love jewelry or I like how it looks on my finger. I keep it because I’m not ready to give up on love. And I feel safe with it on. That’s ridiculous, I know. But you know, I earned this ring. I had to take a punch or two…or ten…to get it.


So that’s just one of the women I’m writing for. The idea is that they are in group therapy in the shelter and one by one, between dialogue, we hear each individual story over the course of the play. Really minimal set. Also, flashbacks of a woman from the 70s, winding up in the hospital for the umpteenth time, finally able to go to the new DV shelter that just opened. Her name is Hope.

I’d love to hear ideas, stories and feedback. Thanks for reading.

Do you fall in love with your own face?

Yes. Yes, you do.

I smashed the two halves of our faces together (my husband and I) one day and realized, “I fell in love with my own face!”

How utterly narcissistic. LOL Falling in love with your own face and then photoshopping your faces together. Both of those things are nar-suh-friggin’-sistic. 😀

But it’s true.

Granted, I don’t have the same skin tone and dark features, but! our facial symmetry is astonishing. To me. I did not stretch the image at all!

Are you part of a couple? Want me to smash your faces together to show you how much you look like your partner??

Send me two pix of same resolution size and facing forward in the same pose. Head shots. Send to martha.maggio@sbcglobal.net and I’ll smash ’em up for you! I love this theory.

If you send me your pix, I need your permission to share in future posts. K?

Can’t wait to see all the freaky faces.

Unfailing

Like the ship on a sea,
My body is Home.
You always have rest
Wherever you roam.

To know true Peace
We must struggle and wrestle.
Our cargo is Honesty
Carried far in a vessel.

Don’t give up, please,
Holding through the night.
Words and wisdom will come.
Keep praying for the light.

Like sun in the morning,
Your smile is Life.
Want is not need.
Sacrifice is a Wife.