There is something interesting that happens when he gets mad at me. It's not the pathetic sense of impending doom, or the slight panic of having pushed it just a it too far, or the downright depression at disappointing.
It's the reinforcement of the fact that we are individuals of equal value on unequal footing.
It creates a space between us. I'm not really a fan of there being space between us. But sometimes, without that space, it's easy to forget our places as separate beings.
Being reminded of that reinforces the love I have for him. I love him not just for us, but for himself. For who he was, is, and will be.
With closeness comes comfort and familiarity. When the space between appears, it reminds me that nothing in this life is written in stone. That he is Master and I am slave. That some things will never be negotiable.
That he is my everything.
When he is no longer angry, and he looks down at me with that bittersweet look of disappointment, my knees melt. And I know that I am willing to do anything to please, anything to incur a sense of pride from him. Anything to keep the love he gives me.
Because when all is right between us? The sky really could fall. And it would be okay. Because he is my rock, the solid ground beneath my feet, the wind under my wings, my oasis in the desert.
Sometimes it takes that space between us to remind me of just how green and gorgeous the grass is on my side of the fence.