[ WP ] Write about something that is disgusting or ugly in such a way that it becomes something beautiful -- without using the 'beautiful inside ' cliche .

I remember our honeymoon. You wanted something different, so we decided to go camping. We made a camp at the national park and laid a tent for a week. We survived on canned corn and corned beef. For all the planning we did, we still ran out of food. So we dug for worms and made a handmade fishing rod. And on the seventh day, we made dinner out of unsalted trout. We ate with our bare hands, seasoned only by our soiled fingernails. 
 
 It was delicious. 
 
 I remember our first week at home. We were holding hands when I saw black dirt around the wedding ring you wore. I told you to clean the inside. You said you did n't want to ever remove it, even it gave you Salmonella. I thought that was stupid, and you knew it. 
 
 You kept it on for another week anyway. 
 
 I remember making our garden. We debated between sunflowers or roses, so we bought both. You toiled the ground for planting and dug up what seemed to be three used condoms. I recall laughing on my ass while I threw bad soil on your stupid face while you held the condoms in your hand and made naughty faces. We cleaned up after and you joined me in the shower. 
 
 That was our best sex ever. 
 
 I remember going home one night. I open the door and the overwhelming smell of mixed vomit, piss and shit waft through the room like newly cooked pancakes. You were cradling our five-month old baby as she slept. You apologized for the mess and cried. The sweat from your shirt smelled like a construction worker on a day shift and I wondered how a person of such finesse and grace forget about herself so much for the sake of another person. And while I put on a Beatles record to calm you down I questioned how much I really loved you. 
 
 Because up until that moment, I realized it was never nearly enough. 
 
 I remember working over time. We struggled with the mortgage that year, and she just entered grade school. You did n't want her to study in a public school. This meant a lot of late nights. Black, sticky coffee rings marked my desk, reminding me how much every hour means. Another hour. Another sale. The clock ticked with every cigarette I smoked to keep myself awake. There are days when I ca n't wash the taste off my mouth. It all clung to me as I parked up the driveway while you stand at the doorway to welcome me. 
 
 And every single night, you kissed my tar-ridden lips like it was our wedding day. 
 
 So you see, darling, when you started asking me if I regretted cleaning the piss out of the bed because you've started to forget how to urinate, this is my simple answer: I remember. I will fill in the details you have forgotten, as you have written all of what is mine.
