So today, no talk of masks or gloves or curves or social distancing. Today we talk of romance.
Twenty-nine years ago today, in a chapel overflowing with lilacs and friends, I married this guy. He is calm, tall and diplomatic (all the things I'm not). I was in the third grade when he was born, and I was convinced he was "not my type". He chased me for several years before the light went on in my head and I realized who I had here. The Real Deal. A certifiable gem.
We exchanged our vows, having absolutely no idea what we were in for. We had never discussed how many children we wanted, or whether we would be strict or lenient parents. We had no clue that we would face the deaths of both our mothers, my father, my younger brother, and several dear friends. Or that the clergy would figure so largely in our lives. My "priest collection" was part of the dowry. When our two fabulous sons came along we would spend two weeks in Wales every summer in the rectory (or "presbytery") of a brilliant and absolutely delightfully wacky priest whom I met through my eighth grade history teacher. Our boys grew up comparing castles and discussing which one most resembled the one from Fisher Price. (It was Conwy.) "Uncle Jim" would visit us in the fall sometimes. Our younger son was named after him and also after the priest who married us. They knew both priests as "Uncle __" and loved them like family. Neither clergy nor Wales was in our initial life plan. Many wonderful things never get into the first draft.
Our kids turned out to be the kind of men I would want to have as friends if they weren't already stuck with me as their mother. They are funny and smart and athletic, like their Dad, the "Marathon Man". They are theatrical and poetic and irreverent, like me. The years in between then and now went by too quickly, the way they always do, and I miss Little League, music lessons, and high school productions that were beyond amazing. I certainly miss having them around now, but it's their turn to fly. We're the bow; they are the arrows.
But getting back to Himself, in no crystal ball I can remember was there any intimation of what we're going through now. We've been alone together for 24/7 for the last two months and somehow we haven't had the tiniest spat. He really is the best of company, for Pandemics and for life. I cannot believe how incredibly lucky we have been for all these years. We are "chalk and cheese" in many ways, i.e. as different as two humans can be, but somehow it still works. And it works better all the time.
We now return you to our previously scheduled Pandemic. Himself and I are going to open a bottle of wine, light some candles, and enjoy a lovely dinner for two while we block out the rest of the world. Because in the midst of all this fear and sorrow, it is necessary for all of us to stop and feel good about something.
Twenty-nine years ago today, in a chapel overflowing with lilacs and friends, I married this guy. He is calm, tall and diplomatic (all the things I'm not). I was in the third grade when he was born, and I was convinced he was "not my type". He chased me for several years before the light went on in my head and I realized who I had here. The Real Deal. A certifiable gem.
We exchanged our vows, having absolutely no idea what we were in for. We had never discussed how many children we wanted, or whether we would be strict or lenient parents. We had no clue that we would face the deaths of both our mothers, my father, my younger brother, and several dear friends. Or that the clergy would figure so largely in our lives. My "priest collection" was part of the dowry. When our two fabulous sons came along we would spend two weeks in Wales every summer in the rectory (or "presbytery") of a brilliant and absolutely delightfully wacky priest whom I met through my eighth grade history teacher. Our boys grew up comparing castles and discussing which one most resembled the one from Fisher Price. (It was Conwy.) "Uncle Jim" would visit us in the fall sometimes. Our younger son was named after him and also after the priest who married us. They knew both priests as "Uncle __" and loved them like family. Neither clergy nor Wales was in our initial life plan. Many wonderful things never get into the first draft.
Our kids turned out to be the kind of men I would want to have as friends if they weren't already stuck with me as their mother. They are funny and smart and athletic, like their Dad, the "Marathon Man". They are theatrical and poetic and irreverent, like me. The years in between then and now went by too quickly, the way they always do, and I miss Little League, music lessons, and high school productions that were beyond amazing. I certainly miss having them around now, but it's their turn to fly. We're the bow; they are the arrows.
But getting back to Himself, in no crystal ball I can remember was there any intimation of what we're going through now. We've been alone together for 24/7 for the last two months and somehow we haven't had the tiniest spat. He really is the best of company, for Pandemics and for life. I cannot believe how incredibly lucky we have been for all these years. We are "chalk and cheese" in many ways, i.e. as different as two humans can be, but somehow it still works. And it works better all the time.
We now return you to our previously scheduled Pandemic. Himself and I are going to open a bottle of wine, light some candles, and enjoy a lovely dinner for two while we block out the rest of the world. Because in the midst of all this fear and sorrow, it is necessary for all of us to stop and feel good about something.
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