I’m not a dinosaur per se, but I have dinosaur emotions. In fact, we all have dinosaur emotions. Especially married people. I have a T-Rex inside me who sticks her head out of my ears when my husband and I are not having such a jolly time together and sensibilities have become prehistoric.
This is when my T-Rex anger bares her dagger teeth and curls her ruthless claws. She might use her words — huffy ones, or dismissive — but mostly she’ll stay silent, and you will never know she’s there. But I know she’s there because she proceeds to gnaw my insides until I’m half a rawhide dog bone.
Speaking of dinosaurs, one day I saw dinosaurs at the store. They weren’t real because dinosaurs died out long ago, but they were representative. I brought them home to make a joke in my kitchen.
Dinosaurs are indeed people. Some days, when patience is at an all-time low, a Pterodactyl will drop in a heap inside me and silent-wail at the top of her lungs in a cataclysmic surrender. Spouses who’ve been around for over twenty years can sometimes have you throwing your hands up in futility. Things will never change.