I Might Have Married a Witch…

…So You Might Want to Be Nice To Me. Obviously, I couldn’t fit the entire title in the space you get for that piece of your story. But the entire thing is important. Before moving on, be sure you note the full one. It might come up again later.

I walk into our bedroom and notice two books on the dresser. Intrigued, I walk over. I love books, everything about them, so like a moth to flame, I’m drawn in. I pick up the one on top and glance at the one underneath. Time stops, and I stagger back until I gather myself—able to stand upright and steady again. Did a scorpion sting me, you ask? No, I just read the titles. And now I present them to you.

The first: How to be a Wicked Witch: Good Spells, Potions and Notions for Bad Days (God…please don’t let my wife be having a bad day.) The next: The Element Encyclopedia of Witchcraft (Oh, heaven save me, did I leave the toilet seat up again?) This is what it is like being married to a witch.


It is not like I am Darrin from “Bewitched” and all my dreams come true; when life gets messy, a little nose doesn’t twitch and fix everything. It’s not like Hocus Pocus either; no one is talking about eating children. In fact, in our house, I’m not even allowed to hurt an insect unless it is absolutely necessary (such as something that could hurt our pups).

I mean, I have to get an all-clear in triplicate to kill a wasp. It is, however, a little like having your world just a bit off-center…all the time. All kidding aside, though, it is an enjoyable ride.

Living with Two Wives

I live with my third and fourth wife. No, we are not the remake of “Big Love.” We just loved each other so much we wanted to do it twice. Well, that is not really the whole story, but we will get to that later when we have become better acquainted. I met my wife online—yes, I said online. That was just over 14 years ago. She was a professor at a prestigious private liberal arts college and had a PhD. Yes, she is smart, and I am a great salesman.

Believe me, you do not know how good I am. Trust me—people who know us still can’t believe I pulled this off. Things should have been clear to me when I found out that this beautiful and talented lady not only taught composition and rhetoric but also a class on Witchcraft in American Literature at a Christian college. That was the first clue that she may not be an ordinary mortal, but that is really just the tip of the iceberg. We will share many of these in future tales, if you can put up with my limited story-telling ability.

In the Cauldron

I want to tell you about a recent evening at our house. Early in the time of the Pandemic, we were going to enjoy quality time in the hot tub. I should mention that this might be considered by some to resemble a cauldron, since it is round, made of stone, and heated. Not observing any “eye of newt” lying around, I felt safe. So, I relaxed, enjoying the warmth and the jetted water washing over me.

My wife is very connected to her spirituality and has named several trees in our backyard setting after her female family members, living and dead. She spends time on many mornings just allowing herself to feel them around her. I have been skeptical too, so don’t feel bad if you just spewed your beverage all over the screen. But let’s get back to the story.

My Wife’s Grandmother

My wife has a very special relationship to her dad’s mom. When she talks of her, I see the love she received and has for this wonderful lady. I am sad that I never got to meet her. Maybe I will see her one day. I would really like to. That evening as we enjoyed the quiet, we both noticed flashes in the night sky. My wife asked me, “Did you see that?”

I was amazed at what I saw. I love fireflies and have wonderful memories of a simpler time as a boy, catching them and spending the evening gathering them up to put them in jars with holes in the lids. We would see how many jars we could collect and how bright we could get them.

We always let the fireflies go at the end, though, because they were too special to not be free.

I had not seen any in a long time. In fact, I could not remember the last time I had. And I wasn’t just seeing them. They were putting on a show. All through the woods they flashed and danced, and the joy I had was abundant. Looking over at my wife’s face, I saw such radiance that I was in awe of the peace reflected there. A beautiful feeling touched me, and I felt love and comfort that I really can’t explain–so I won’t even try. All I can ask from you is to try and imagine that I was more Shakespeare and less Rodney Dangerfield.

I knew someone was there with us, and I was a little embarrassed to be an intruder. You see, I believe this was for my wife’s benefit. I was an interloper, but because she loved me…I was also enveloped in this wonderful bubble of love.

Why My Wife Scares Me

In full disclosure, I really don’t believe my wife is a witch. She is a wonderful, warm, caring, and tender woman of such inner beauty and strength that, honestly, she scares me sometimes. Believe me when I say this: If you are fortunate enough to have her love and friendship, you are a lucky person indeed. And if you ever mess with someone she loves, be sure to remember the last part of my title.

If you want to meet my wife, she’s on a journey of sorts right now; she’s invited anyone who wants to tag along. It’s not for everyone–and it’s got some rawness that makes it hard for me to read sometimes. 

But, if you’re up for hearing her story, it starts here: I Might Be a Witch