Posts Tagged: marriage
My Biggest Success
Today marks sixteen years
Twenty one job changes shared
Five moves,
Enough to make any person dizzy
Buffalo to New Orleans
New Orleans to Buffalo
Buffalo to Atlanta
Atlanta to Buffalo to Atlanta again.
Four children added to the mix
With three dogs, a hermit crab, and a bunch of fish
One motorcycle
Eight vehicles
Cars, trucks, and vans
Countless hours traveled
On beloved country roads
Ups and downs
Twists and turns
Around and arounds
We have seen so very much
The years have gone by
Almost instantaneously
The laughter
though
Is measureless, and
Quite possibly the glue
Of our marriage
Today
Marks sixteen years
I have been his Mrs
And he has been my Mr
It’s one of the greatest
Successes
Of my life
15
When we were married, exactly fifteen years ago today, we exchanged simple golden bands. Not long after, during the cold winter in Buffalo, Michael lost his ring. While I was sad that he’d lost his band it was ok because I had given him a ring for Valentine’s Day 1995. He loved that sterling silver ring, and we agreed that he should wear that in its stead.
The marquis diamond engagement ring I wore, however, was fake. That’s been my sordid little secret for a long, long time. I don’t have a diamond, and that’s ok. It’s really, really ok. Even the big bling I currently wear isn’t real. It’s a fun, big, diamond-like ring, but it’s not a real diamond. It’s costume jewelery.
My gold band and Michael’s silver band are the real deal, though. They are fifteen years real. They have their surface scratches, and there have been times when swollen fingers prevented a perfect fit, but they have also withstood so, so much. They are worn even when they aren’t; that’s just how real they are. They are the circles that represent endlessness. They are circles that are a token of our undying love for one another.
Fifteen years is a long time. Fifteen years is easy. Fifteen years is hard. Fifteen years, and it’s very much worth every turn of the circle.
“Now place the ling on his hand. A ling is like a circle, it goes on forever. It’s not like a triangle, triangle have corners. It’s like a circle.”
Cross Your Heart
One-by-one, big, fat, salty tears rolled down my cheeks during the opening “marriage” montage of the Pixar film “Up”. The notorious lump in the throat formed as I felt it vibrate and grow with each musical note. That opening flash through Carl and Ellie’s life got me. And it got me good.
I think it was the depiction of the tenderness of marriage that got me. All the milestones and moments along with the pitfalls and ever changing pace of life. It was how, at first, [they] could run up the hill full of vigor, and how they later helped each other, carefully, to the top. It was how they lived and breathed one another. It was romance. It was hardship. It was pure beauty. It was the epitome of marriage and all we crave and desire.
Marriage is a twisted path on which we travel. There are seasons. Times we feel heat and sweat pouring, when it’s hard to breathe or feel comfort. Times the brush is so thick that we get caught up in twisted vines, when it’s hard to get through or move. Times when it’s bitterly cold, when the once raging fire is dissipating, begging to be poked and rekindled. And there are times when the leaves fall off the proverbial trees, when we are exposed and allowed time to remember why we even set foot on the path; this path that wasn’t cut out for [us], but that [we] have traversed diligently.
Our children wouldn’t have understood why I was crying—so I held back—but deep within me there were pounding sobs.
After fifteen years of togetherness it’s easy to pass through the seasons allowing them to take their toll. It’s in the autumn of my life , though, that I am reminded of the vulnerability of our hearts. It’s when I can watch a four minute montage of a children’s movie, with tears streaking my face, that I can clearly recall that this path is indeed an adventure. It’s the adventure of a lifetime, one that isn’t easy or always romantic, and it’s one that’s worth staying the course…seasons, scrapes, sweat, and all.
Michael,
I love you madly. I hope you always sweat with me in the summer, put your cold feet on me in the winter, gaze at the blaring colors of the leaves with me in the fall, and hold steadfast as our flowers grow in the spring.
Yours,
Mishelle
