exceprt from a story I read (paraphrased)

It started out well enough, as the saying always goes. A sunday morning discussion about religion, whose church we would send our daughter to. My church was too this, You said. Your church was not enough that, I offered. The sun was shining warmly through the french doors and the cats were stretched lazily across its path. Breakfast was a fruit salad that You had made while I had been, blissfully and rarely, sleeping in and our daughter was happily somersaulting across the rumpled covers. It went like that for a short while, our voices occasionally rising to meet the passion which we both felt for our beloved communities. But then, inevitably and almost as inexplicably, it changed. It went to good vs. evil and who has the right? does it exist? What is right? what is wrong? and I swear to God I played by the rules. I played by the rules and kept to the facts, I didn't get too personal, there were no low blows or cheap shots slung from my corner. I kept to the facts and I stated my opinions expertly, backing up my thoughts with examples of why I thought the way I did. Somewhat imperious and right, an inherited quality (perhaps a flaw), but I swear I played by the rules. I was so busy playing by the rules that I didn't even see the knife until it was too late. Until I was spurting blood from my belly, jaw dropped open and not knowing whether to cover the wound or cover my daughters eyes.

We could've just agreed to disagree, (as the saying also always goes). We could've taken two different experiences and sets of beliefs as they are and agreed to teach and share the best of both worlds. And I swear to God I would've done that. I would've done that and more. I would've done that and laughed over coffee, my white belly intact in the sunshine. But then that blade. You ended it with that blade, swooping clean in deep with those words and I was left to clean it up, my blood on the rug, my heart spilling out onto the floor in the sunshine. I lost the battle that day, the battle and the war (as the saying too, goes).

And I swear to God that I know I am still right, not that it matters, who is right, who is wrong. I know what is right for me and I know what is wrong. And I know not only black and white, but grey in all of its infinite shades. And I know what it feels like to have that knife plunged deep into my belly and I know what it's like to cry all night trying so hard to keep from making any sound or movement so that it doesn't get twisted inside me. And I know what it's like to seek love in someone's eyes and get chilled from the look they give back. And I know what it's like to hold your head up in defiance, despite the loss of blood, so much it makes you dizzy. And I know what it's like to wait and wait and turn away empty-handed. But I swear I didn't know the knife was in your hand that day, that sunny wintery day when it all stretched out before me. I swear to God I thought it was the sunlight reflecting on your ring when I saw that flash. And I know that it's all I've got left, the last words you said to me. And I know they will never leave me, I've got the bloody rug to prove it. I swear.