My wife and I were raised in homes that believed in modern-day revelation. Our lives were organized in important ways around revelation.

In the bustle of modern life, away from our childhood religious communities, we slowly lost our faith. We came to miss the guiding hand of revelation. We felt rudderless, if I may mix my metaphors.

So we decided to provide revelations for each other. If the candle was lit, a written revelation was to be found under it.

We got off to a rocky start. To my wife it was revealed that she’d look better as a blonde, and wearing four-inch heels around the house might be a good idea, especially near bedtime. To me it was revealed that I was a jerk. That nobody likes me, including my wife.

To my wife it was then revealed that I’d be stopping at the Pole Heaven Lounge on my way home after work. It was revealed to me that if another car was in our driveway, I was to just keep on driving.

More revelations followed, until the candle began to assume some of the blame. Our experiment ended when the candle burnt down our house.

Now we are homeless. No candle, but we decided to continue with the revelations, in the belief that knowing is better than not knowing. Ignorance is not bliss in our case, but longing.

Now, if one of us finds the spread-out front page of a free newspaper covering our shopping cart, underneath it will be a revelation scrawled on butcher paper with a pencil stub, emphasizing love and forgiveness. Not necessarily of each other but, you know, avoiding the truth.


For Weekend Writing Prompt

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