The good wife

It is exciting, wonderous to be a good wife.  I am used to being stuck in time with nothing for show for my life’s work but a meatloaf. I am a servant to those who find true happiness. Advice I give in hopes that they will improve their current situations. Advice I give to help those in which I love. But when they are gone on their personal quests–I am alone in my thoughts again. But it is okay because I should appreciate what ‘God’ has given me. I should be a good wife. It is despicable to take blessings for granted. Like a roof over my head and clothes on my back, those are the important things in life. They are the blessings which make us so happy. I smile as a rain drop hits my face falling from my ceiling. I shiver in the coldness of it. I am warm enough and it would not be fair to spend his money on warm clothes anyway. We must save for more bullets. Yes, someday the zombies will come and we must be prepared. Good wives prepare for anything, right? And sacrifices must be made to keep the guns loaded.

And everybody loves a good husband now don’t they. I have my own. A husband who puts me to bed on a regular basis. I folllow him as he tugs my arm toward the bedroom. I have this, yes I do. I have the errands to run to make our life ‘happier’. I have this, yes I do. And as the strangers pass by and smile at the happy couple, I can smile back. I have  become quite accustomed to acting. Besides, I am an artist. I can do all kinds of things–tricks. But in reality–I am a good wife.

There are things in which I cannot deny are great joys to me. Three things to be exact. Children who do give me unconditional love and admiration. But I have not figured out yet what they are admiring. Maybe it is the ability to put the knife down or the ability to mind their father. I haven’t figured out which ‘gift’ it is. But they are the reason I stop crying and continue to cook their dinner…in silence. Besides too much silliness is unbecoming of me. I think he would beat me for the times I play in secret.  Their father hates that. I should be a good wife… A quiet one.
Sometimes I attend church and while the preacher speaks I think pornographic thoughts. I feel the stares of the others. I know they can hear me thinking and so I grip my pen tightly. I am alone now with my God. I do not desire to go to their establishments but as a good wife I do. As a good wife, I ask for forgiveness for that thought I just had. The elders are wise. I always listen to them when they tell me that a good wife prays and stays. Yes, a good wife does that doesn’t she?
And I turn my cheek when things should not be seen. When those bad bad people come to tell me things that i shouldn’t know. Those estranged husbands who lie about my husband. I am a good wife. As long as he comes home at night, his whereabouts are no conern of mine. I have a household to run. I have to have dinner done and his tea made. It wouldn’t be nice if I thought about things too much–I might decide to be a bad wife, and that just wouldn’t do.