Laura’s Nail

   There's an old rusty nail in our bathroom that my wife's hair dryer hangs from. It's an ugly old nail, and a bit loose in the wall, at that. We'd been married several years before we decided to repaint the bathroom. I took all the fixtures down in preparation and said something to her about installing a rack, or a hook, for her to hang her dryer on. She said no. Her nail was just fine. Don't touch her nail. I tried to convince her that something besides that rusty old nail would look much better. She seemed to get mad at me for even implying I would remove the nail and I was bewildered. What sentimental stature could this rusty nail hold for her? She shared the short story with me with a ting of the anger still in her voice and in her eyes.
     My wife's previous husband was a bit different from me. He'd had a hard life. Lived the redneck ghetto life. A bit of a thug, you might say. His stints in prison and jails had lasting effects on him.  He was controlling and manipulative. Although they'd started their life together happily, he'd become a different person rather quickly. Drugs played their part but couldn't excuse the way he tried to control every small aspect of her life. He berated her, called her names and insisted on things being done the “right” way. Read that as “his” way. The day he tried to remove that nail was the day she stood up. He'd thrown the nail away without asking her about it. That triggered her.  There was a verbal fight that got pretty intense, but she held her ground. She had bent over backwards for him. Done all the chores to his liking, down to the last minuscule detail. She drew the line here. He backed down and fished the nail out of the trash and put it back where she had it. The nail stayed.
      So now I began to understand the importance of the nail. It was a symbol of her independence more than as a good place to hang a hair dryer. Over the years we've painted, re-floored, put up shelves and different accents in our bathroom, but that rusty old nail remains. It's still an eyesore. It's still a bit loose in the hole. But as long as she wants it there, then there is where it'll stay. I want my wife to be happy. I want her to have all the nails she wants. 
     Nails are important. They hold things together. Two separate things are joined by a long piece of sharp pointed steel that pulls them together and makes them into something that neither one was in the beginning. You build things with nails. Chairs. Tables. Rooms. Houses. Even relationships. Each nail is sharp. You have to force it in. You displace a tiny bit of wood in order to make them hold together. Such is life. Such is a relationship. Each of us have our own nails. Things in our life that define us. They may be big things. They may be small things. But they are ours. They are US. Some of those nails we use to put together a relationship that becomes a WE. The force used to drive the nail into the wood can be looked at as pain. Pain that we put ourselves through in order to change into something new. When two people commit to each others lives, they create a new being that compliments both, resembles both, but is a new thing altogether. It's a beautiful thing, when it's done right. When it's done wrong, those nails can create a monstrosity that either builds a cage around one, or puts one on a pedestal. It's in this circumstance that we have wasted our nails.
     Every good thing about ourselves is a nail. Each individual nail is an attribute, a personality trait, or an emotion that makes us who we are. They may be your dreams, your aspirations, or your goals. You may have some special thing about you that you don't want to share with anyone else. Maybe you want to save that part of you.  You may want to use it later. Maybe you won't . You use them sparingly, because they are important to you. Everyone has a bag of these nails that they want to save, to horde, to ration out only when they want to make something special. They may never want to use them. That's ok, too. It's their prerogative, because it's totally their call. No one else gets to use those nails. They belong to you. You get to decide when, and where the nail goes. If you want to put it in the wall and hang your hair dryer from it, that's up to you. It's your nail. 
      When you love someone, you give yourself to them. In a good relationship, this goes both ways. In a bad one, it's a one-way street. There has to be give, and take. Share, and share alike. Love is not selfish. If it is, it's not love. It's something else. You also must love the person as they are. Trying to mold, change and transform someone into your idea of perfect is a bad idea. Even when they're willing, it's a breach of trust to insist they adapt to your idea of what is right. Let them be themselves. You wouldn't have fallen in love with them if they were already perfect. You fell in love with their unique imperfections. In time, those imperfections become diamonds in your eyes and you realize that is what makes them special. To be the perfect couple you must see that their “nails” belong to them. When, and if, they want to use them in your relationship, that's totally up to them. You can't force them to build something with it that they don't want to build. Let them be the architect of their life. When your paths, plans and creations come together in the construction of life, there is real beauty in it. That's when you find out that those old rusty nails are really beautiful.