“We come to love not by finding a perfect person, but by learning to see an imperfect person perfectly.”
I know this is true when it comes to you. Well aware of your imperfections, I nonetheless love you anyway. I love you so much that I can bring myself to tears if I think of it for too long.
A long time ago, I used to wonder if this were normal — or at least within the broader definition of normal. The category that includes everything that might be a bit “out there” but isn’t going to hurt anyone or cause problems.
But that was a long time ago. And with everything that has happened in the intervening time, I find I no longer care if it’s normal. It just is. And we are great together.
At least from my perspective. Because it’s the other part that trips me up, you see. I find it so hard to understand, to really grasp, that you accept my imperfections. I find it impossible to believe that you see me perfectly, as imperfect as I truly am.
Instead I find myself getting hung up on the times you were frustrated with my shortcomings and told me so. I can’t seem to wash it away with other memories — the ones where we went on long walks and listened to the birds. Where we giggled at each other while tangled up in bedsheets. The times when we read books side by side and told each other what we were learning. When we held each other when we felt like we couldn’t go on.
Look, I can see all of that re: you. From my perspective. And in my memory, it makes me see you perfectly, imperfections and all. Frankly, your imperfections are really footnotes at this point. Quirks.
But when it comes to you doing the same for me… I just can’t see it. And that might just be my greatest imperfection.