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“Nearly all marriages, even happy ones, are mistakes: in the sense that almost certainly (in a more perfect world, or even with a little more care in this very imperfect one) both partners might be found more suitable mates. But the real soul-mate is the one you are actually married to.” – J R R Tolkien in a letter to his grandson
I never dated the man I am married to. We didn’t have money for fancy dinners, movies or anything that resembled a “real” date. Instead we did life together. We worked our way through college, studied hard, worked out, made mistakes and survived a lot of drama together. and then we got married. and then we had kids. all in pretty short order.
and now I have been married for ten years and we are raising three children and a son waits for us in heaven. Sometimes I wonder how all this beauty happened and sometimes I am stretched thin and all our sharp corners rub each other raw. When I walked down the aisle of that white country church I thought all our angles would fit together, the notches would interlock and we would complete each other and become a towering, shiny new creation. After jostling up against each other’s daily moments and living grief each in our own way I realized our differing shapes seem drawn to stab the other just where it will hurt. Instead of the puzzle pieces fitting easily into the slots I assumed they were made for, sometimes the holes remain open and empty.
These seem harsh and ugly words, but if you have been married more than a few seasons I doubt that you could call them untrue.
We talk and talk of how to care for our little ones, what the next step is . . . jobs and school and homes . . . and then the other day we sat over steaming cups and gave voice to the shift that the years have brought. As the coast changes with the rhythm of waves pounding, so have we. And we gave voice to the questions, THE question . . .
If we met each other today, would we marry?
If we knew then what we do now, would we do it differently?
Grasp all we want and time travel in our minds, there is no answer to be had. Our souls are mated and we walk this life together.
Like rocks on the beach we are smoothed by the waves of each season and each other. The stones silken and rounded by years of cleansing, crashing down on them, They chatter and sing, dancing over each other, laying out a firm carpet before the sea. They are a seat before forever stretching on to beauty, a floor made of pebbles worn raw against each other. Upon these time worn treasures, fires are lit to guard against the dark, to give comfort while the harsh winds blow.
I know no other to live life with than the man I married, as the waves turn us round and round, caressing each other into flowing lines of eternity
(and now we are trying to go on more dates, which is lovely for our souls. these images were taken one Friday when we got a babysitter for the kids, ate at the foodtrucks and went to an art opening and music show at a new gallery in town. it was a good good night)
9-29-12 . 28mm . last light-street lights
