|On a recent trip up the California coast|
We have not had a great deal of time to devote to these excursions, but have managed to get a few in over the last year. On one particular trip, with John driving and me occupying my hyperactive self in the passenger seat, I looked over and was drawn to my husband’s hands. His wedding ring glinted in the sunlight and seeing it I was taken back to our wedding day.
With all the promise of our life together before us, we took a photograph of our hands sporting the symbols that committed us - one to the other.
|On our wedding day, 1988|
Neither one of us had any idea what the years ahead would be like; but in that moment we carried the belief that our lives would forever be entwined, although the odds of it were not necessarily on our side.
Our present-day hands, just like our lives, have aged some. Both, I am proud to say have stood the test of time.
|Two decades later: the rings changed, but not the symbol behind them|
We are complete opposites, John and I.
Me? I’m restless, forever looking beyond what is in front of me and dreaming of what could be. I like change and when I can’t have it in a big way, say a new career (I’ve had at least four) my need for change manifests itself in rearranging the things around me. I move furniture around my house on a regular basis, each time insisting that the “new” arrangement was how it should have been all along. John refuses to allow me access to a chainsaw; he fears what the trees, fences, or building outside would look like after I had my way with them. John, on the other hand thrives on consistency.
Routine could be John’s middle name. He likes things to stay the same, has even acknowledged that at times when something messes with the routine it messes with his whole day. John is comfortable with the familiar; it gives him peace of mind. I honestly don’t know how he has managed to live this long with a whirlwind such as me, but for some reason, it has worked.
That’s not to say we haven’t had our moments; what couple hasn’t that have been together for so many years? What’s the key? We’ve talked about it, among ourselves during intimate conversations, with our daughters as they have navigated through life and loves, with friends who marvel that we have withstood the test of time. The answers we have come up with are friendship, respect, and, well, frankly, love. John is not my best friend, not in the true sense. I keep things from him and he from me; things we can only share with a guy or girl friend. But, we are best of friends, nonetheless; he knows my heart and I, his.
We have an undying respect for one another. In all of our years together we have never, ever uttered a swear word at the other, nor have we called the other a disparaging name. This is the one thing most people we tell cannot believe. But, it’s true. We don’t allow others to speak poorly of the other; in the true sense we have one another’s back.
Love, the thing that brought us to that day of vow-making, has grown and changed over the years. When I think of life without John, I can’t fathom it; he is so much a part of me that the very thought of his absence is too difficult to contemplate. I may seek change in everything else I do, but in my life with this one man I just want it to continue. In a few months John’s mother and father will be celebrating their 60th anniversary.
|John's mom and dad, still laughing and loving|
This life with John has been the best road trip I’ve ever taken. I can’t wait to look in the rearview mirror once we’ve reached our destination.