I walk the line

My husband and myself went to the Johnny Cash movie, I Walk The Line. We almost did not go to see it because of our fiery temperments and personalities. As the movie unfolded into the deep corners of this famous man's life, it became obvious there was going to be a connection between two people that life could not sever. A passion, a need, a love, that no matter how far or how long apart, could not be put out. I found myself sitting in the theater seat wondering. Wondering if the love between me and Bo is that kind of driven desire. Not just the physical aspect, but the need to feel completed with another person. We have been married 18 years. 18 years of fire and ice. Love and hate. Fear and security. Numbness and tingling. Just what do we have? Johnny could not replace his love for June Carter with drink, pills, women or selling records to the top of the charts. Am I replacable? Is Bo replaceable? With another person? Another lover or friend? Just what do we have? History. Time. Years. Moments. Eternity. Tears. Joy. Anger. Laughter. Frustration. Satisfaction. Just what do we have? A daughter who wears the cheerleader pin that her daddy gave her in Kindergarden, 8 years ago. A son who has looked for his dad on the football field after the game to exchange game words only they can share. A book written by blood, sweat and tears. Sure other chapters could be written by someone else. The only problem is changing the names, changes the ending of the story. No one will write the story of Bo and Miriam's love for each other. The movie will not be played on the big screen. But, our book is not complete, the work is not finished. And, who knows, we could be a masterpiece in the working. Real works of art take time. Real masterpieces wear the sculptor's fingers to the bone, carving the exact depth into the stone. No amount of rubbing could smoothe over the depth of real love. Fingertips will still feel the marks.