Headaches

My wedding anniversary is coming up. I am commemorating these years from the nuptials by making Yoelish's favorite supper. But I will be marking not only the birth of my family and my love for Yoelish, but I also will be reflecting on other aspects of my young life that have changed when I got married. As I think back to the things of past and to this momentous wedding event, some very strong feelings envelop me. I'd like to take this opportunity to pay tribute to some very dear part of my life I lost when I got married, because of my marriage.

I've prepared a little ceremony, a little ritual of sorts, that I want to perform. I lit some vanilla scented candles and turned off the lights, and I will observe a few moments of silence in memory.

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And I will now read a letter I wrote to express my strongest, deepest, broken voice of longing.



To my Dear Friend,

My heart aches with endless pain as I once again open this wound. I know that you are angry with me, and I understand your reason. I too, am really hurt.

I want you to realize that there was nothing I could have done about it. I was presented with a choice one should never know of. It was very clear that it was either you or him.

I love you very much, but after excruciating reflection I concluded that although my feelings for you are unconditional, you can not satisfy some parts of my life that he does. I hope it makes you feel better to hear that even though I have gone on to a happily married life, I still think of you every day.

I think of the special times we shared, and then of the times our relationship was under stress. I can now appreciate the extent to which our friendship made me a better person. You no doubt accented me in many ways.

I smile fondly at the memory of you under the rain. I remember your obsession with clothing. You had an endless collection of shoeboxes of ribbons, barrettes, ‘chuts’, ‘rifes’, brushes, mirrors… All of which were always updated according to the latest style and fad. Oh, you were so materialistic; I sometimes wondered how we ever got along.

Actually, very often we didn’t. In the Nine Days you were ecstatic. You looked awful, oil dripping from every end. You insisted that you be washed. In the earlier days, you owned pets; ugly ones that freaked me out. Because of them my mother tried to tear us apart.

You always wanted for me to spend over thirty minutes with you every morning, while you humored yourself by flipping out while I constantly tried to turn you in. You loved cuts, but when we arrived for the appointment you were a control freak. Not too short, not too long…

Oh, you were such a headache.

Despite all that. I miss you.

When I turned 18 and you became fearful that I will leave you for a man,you overreacted. You stopped being yourself. You attended hours of ‘therapy’ at the stylist, giving yourself the ‘of age’ look. You refused to look natural. You always had to be thoroughly conditioned and perfectly blow-dried.

I recall the summers with you most fondly. When you let go of all the uptight dos and you just had fun. You’d be wild, messy and bundled up in a bun. You were happy then.

I miss taking baths with you. I miss it so much. At first, when we broke up, I would stand in the shower and cry. I felt empty and alone.

I placed a memorial, some sort of tombstone, in your place. It’s called a shpitzle. Every day as I pile the plastic hair, sponges, tashtichels and silk paintings onto my head; I dedicate that moment for you.

You will have a special place in my heart, forever.

Love,
Shpitzle