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It's Not You, It's Me

She had become kind of haggard. Stuff wasn't staying put like it used to. I got tired of trying to make it work; taking her places and making sure she was put together.
I imagined how nice a new, fresh one would be; it would smell good, it would be bound well so everything would stay the right place.

It didn't take me long to find another one I thought would be better. The picture spurred me on even more.

I was so excited when I got the new one. Everything started off fine. It was exciting and new. Eventually though, I started feeling funny, it started feeling strange.  Something wasn't right.  After 6 months I was done with the new one. It was a bad fit.  It wasn't her, it was me.

I needed the other one back.  She knew me. I knew her.

We had been to so many hospitals together too. We had been in a lot of living rooms together.
One of the most cherished times we had was at a dear woman's house as the body of her husband lay back in the bedroom, entering glory just a few minutes earlier. This brand new widow held it as we grieved together and I prayed with her and her children.

I just can't giver her up. Today, we were reunited. It's a good day.



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