The Surrender I Crave

Once in a lifetime, a man appears who doesn’t just catch your attention—he claims you. Body, mind, and the parts of your soul you didn’t know were starving. That was him. The man I never met, yet who owned me for a year without even touching me.

Autumn will be the hardest. It was ours—the sharp, cool air, the fire-colored leaves, the photo he sent  in that Halloween costume his nieces picked. He could make me laugh until I ached… and then command me with a single word. His dominance was never harsh, but it was absolute. And I wanted it. Needed it. It was a relief to let go, to not be the one in charge for once in my life.

When a woman has spent her life holding everything together, being in control of every detail, every decision—there’s a hunger that builds. A craving to be able to let go. To have a man strong enough to take the weight from her hands and tell her, without hesitation, “I’ve got you.”

I’m exhausted from carrying it all. I never wanted to be the constant dominant force in my marriage, but somehow I became it. And I hate it. I wasn’t made to lead alone—I was made to stand beside someone, to give my strength when he needs it, and my softness when the world hardens him.

I don’t know if I was that for him. I hope I was. Even from a distance. I’ll keep becoming more than I am, because I know—deep down—that’s what he would have wanted.