"Hello?" she called from the front room, dropping her computer bag somewhere in the vacant living room, and making her way through the house.
From the kitchen, "I'm in here," I directed. Megan came around the corner.
"Hello, Dear." she said. She often called me "Dear" which only confirmed my suspicion that she was an old man trapped in a young woman's body. Megan's fancy for corn-cob pipes and plaid shorts was no coincidence. But more importantly than that, this was the first time that Megan was greeting me in OUR new home.
Prior to signing my name next to Megan's, nearly fifty times, I took a lil' something to take the edge off. So, as I sign my name in the very blood the flowed through my veins, I coasted through the process, knowing that it would finally hit me...Megan and I bought a whole house together (Look out for Our First Home...According to Me).
Engagement--Check!
First Home--Check!
Wedding and Baby-- Coming soon!
Whose life was this, running like a well-oiled machine? When did my life become...normal? And, I am perfectly okay with normal. As a matter of fact, I welcome normal with open arms and a big fat kiss on the lips, pleading. "Where have you been all my life?" Past Cherisse would have recoiled at the thought of normalcy. I am an artist; tortured soul and all. However, somewhere between chugging red wine while composing Emily-like prose by candle light, and that fate-sealing walk on the beach, when Megan said, "Of course I will marry you." this life of mine has been a-okay.
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