Before marriage, I tried on my best June Cleaver. Dinner prepared, on the table, and ready to eat by 6. Ward never worked late. He came home in time to love his dinner Every. Single. Night. When reality didn't behave like 60's television, I carefully tucked June away. She's in there somewhere along with the other caricatures of who I thought a happily-ever-after woman should be.
Each raised in chaos, we were unimaginably ill-prepared for this thing called marriage. Between a Monday evening and a Saturday afternoon, we made the decision and became part of the married population.
A place I'd never believed I'd inhabit.
One he'd always known he belonged in.
Today it's been 22 years of rock, paper, scissors. At first glance, a child's game. Look more deeply and you know it's anything but.
When my never-married friends make proclamations:
"I could never . . .
. . . do that for someone else,
. . . deal with living with someone who disagrees with me on that issue,
. . . tolerate that behavior,
. . . accept those choices."
I inwardly shrug and tune out just a bit.
The path we've walked has been strewn with hazards. Sometimes we've navigated them hand in hand; other times we've chosen routes independent of each other. We've always managed to return to the together place that only we know.
Now everyone dreams of a love lasting and true
But you and I know what this world can do
So let's make our steps clear that the other may see
And I'll wait for you
If I should fall behind
Wait for me
But you and I know what this world can do
So let's make our steps clear that the other may see
And I'll wait for you
If I should fall behind
Wait for me
~ Bruce Springsteen
A song for us—the oh so very married.
