There is something they don't tell you about all the vows. Sometimes "for worse" comes first; sometimes it's a thread sewn throughout. It's not always this clear block of time; waking up in the morning you feel it: Oh, today it will be for worse, and for maybe a few months– no, sometimes it's the day after your wedding and you are alone in your house listening to the rain. Sometimes you make a mistake so quick and beautiful that there is no urge to forgive. Sometimes you sit quietly while your honeymoon disappears like smoke in the air.
I have a husband again now. Sometimes it's a week after your wedding and your husband can barely move. Sometimes it's a week after your wedding and you are making plans for the next trip to the hospital and how to rearrange the living room so that your husband will not trip and fall over all this life
Megan D’Albero is a poet based in New York. She earned her MFA in Poetry from Sarah Lawrence College. Her work will be featured in the upcoming anthology “If Memory Serves: Stories from the Table” published by Good Printed Things. Megan writes during the time she finds in between her 9 to 5, and writes mostly about the living she does outside of her 9 to 5. She currently lives with her husband, son, and two rescue dogs.