Saturday, February 15, 2014
I've known him for 21 years. Been with him for 20 years and married for 18 years. We have something good. Something really good. We were two best friends ending in a marriage.
We were young. Reckless. Madly in love. No plan. Just two hearts beating as one.
We had no money. No career. No nothing. Just two hearts beating as one.
Now, in the year #18, we wake up some mornings and wonder, "How the hell did we end up here and who are you again?" Some days, I feel so intimately connected to him and other days, he feels like a stranger. We have 4 kids in the house, 5 jobs between the two of us and numerous volunteer things and kids' activities….and life. Do you ever wake up in the morning and wonder what all this is for anyway?
I honestly don't remember the last time I watched a movie with him without one of us falling asleep half way through or heaven forbid, been out on a date.
I remember when I first met him. The way my heart skipped a beat and felt this tingly feeling called 'love'. The fireworks and excitement. Roses, dates and trendy clothes. We were skinny and we had nice shoes.
Here we are, 18 years later, I lay beside him at the end of the day, nearly comatose from the day of responsibilities and busy-ness. In my old tattered T-shirt, soon to be in the rag bin. But I am safe. There is no fireworks. There is no roses on my table. In fact, he came home one day last month and told me, "I just bought you flowers in my head today". A joke only we can laugh about, knowing money is tight. We laughed and I understood where his heart was. Completely devoted to building our life together. We awoke at 3am last Wednesday, and I told him, "I feel like we are just digging ditches right now. Like really really long ditches". That tingly feeling called "love" has turned into something else--digging ditches. But they are beautiful ditches and I am kinda fond of the ditches. I feel safer than ever. He is my safe place. He is my home and he will pick up my shovel when digging gets tough. He might even sing in his happy jovial off-key voice.
I think of the days ahead. We have some pretty incredible little people we are raising. I envision a little cottage by the sea. Just Scott and me. Coffee and newspaper in the morning and wine and uninterupted conversations at the end of the day. Our hearts still beating as one. We are no longer the fireworks though. We are the waves of the sea. Constant and strong. Always there, always will be. No dramatic fanfares necessary. Peace and calming. That is where I hope we are headed.