lucky (for almost fifteen years now)

The owl painting was a gift from my husband, who is not the most sensitive or thoughtful gift-giver in the world. Early in our marriage, he was an absolutely horrific gift giver - so bad that I can win any worst-gift-ever-given-contest hands-down - but he has improved with time and tears. For our first anniversary, he gave me a vhs copy of his favorite movie. Last December nineteenth, he gave me the owl painting. In the gift-giving department it was the best he has ever done.

At the time, however, I did not blog about it. I've been wanting to write something about marriage for awhile, and I had it in the back of my mind that I could do it as an anniversary post, but then the actual day came and I realized that I did not like this particular anniversary. It made me uneasy.

Over dinner, with my beautiful painting wrapped and in the trunk of the car, I confessed to my husband that I would be happier next year on our anniversary. I don't like saying I've been married thirteen years, I told him. It feels ominous; it feels like tempting fate. I wish it was fourteen years instead. Twelve felt safe, and fourteen feels safe. . In thirteen years, he has learned that I am not always a rational creature, so he did the right thing, and just listened.

There was a time when I was much more comfortable giving advice about marriage. I've become shushed with time. Since I've been married, my brother married and saw his marriage end, my husband's parents divorced, and every one of my best friends have either divorced or had their marriages rocked by infidelity. I've gone from thinking weddings were beautiful to attending them with a sort of dread - I carry in the back of my mind the images of the brides and grooms I've known and the betrayals and bitterness that dissolved their unions and contradicted their vows. Weddings would be nice if they lasted, I think.

In the midst of all of this, I have remained married. I can honestly say that I have never even given serious consideration to straying. I am happily married. There are some evenings when it's been a long week, and the stresses of children, and work, and money, cause fatigue and annoyance settle in our bones -- on those evenings my husband and I probably look like the dining dead to a casual, critical observer. Yet, if that critic were to observe us a week later, he would inevitably see us laughing and flirting like a couple new in love. This is the nature of marriage: it ebbs and flows. Some days, I am tired of the physical work of marriage - the dishes and laundry and grocery shoppingness of it all. I'd like to have things stay put. I'd like to only clean up after myself. But more often than not, I am a woman in love. Not exactly a domestic goddess, but contentedly domesticated. My husband and I tell each other we are glad we married one another, and we mean it. Truly.

I started writing this post in December. I am now halfway through the dreaded year thirteen and, so far, the sky has not fallen. In the past year more people than usual have sought out my husband and/or myself for advice about marriage. Should they get married? How did we know? I am terrible in conversations like this. The truth is, you don't know. You just commit. My marriage has lasted not because I am kinder, or more dedicated, or holier. I don't pray more. I was only twenty-two when I married, and not particularly wise. There is nothing special that I do or don't do, and I know that there are a number of things that have caused friends to divorce that would have been deal breakers for me as well. In the end, if people push me for an explanation, the best I can come up with is that I got lucky.

Comments

[Robin M.]

Congratulations on making it through another year. We are now halfway through year 13, and things look good to continue.

[TulipGirl]

When I said "I do" I never expected. . . oh. . . so very much. Never expected what would come. Challenges is too pretty and soft a word for it. Heartbreak and struggle and. . . we, too, have been lucky. Love, commitment, contentment--those are here now more than ever. And I'm thankful.