Monday, August 8, 2011

Happy Anniversary!


August 8, 2011

Thirty years ago today, I married my high school sweetheart. I am not so pie-eyed to say that it has all been smooth sailing-what marriage is?

You start out as a couple unable to think that you'll ever want to be away from one another. I remember how he used to smell my hair and tell me he loved the smell of me-disdained any perfumes or lotions -because my very essence , it seems, was just right for him.

I remember his mahogany colored eyes and his kisses that told me he would love me forever.

But life happens. And reality sets in. The roller coaster of life is set in motion as the your years together continue. There are such happy times-but there are crappy times as well.

And yet, as I look back over the thirty years that I have been with him, the times that have maybe been -less than perfect -are somehow blurred. What comes through-true and clear- are the times that he has really been there for me-when he has really been my partner.

Some stand out more than others and I can remember these with a crystal clarity.

Our long arduous journey with infertility really tested the metal of our union. But it was his hand in mine that saved me during a scary ultrasound where we were told our baby (after two miscarriages) might be seriously deformed-anencephalic was the brutal term. I remember how he attempted to smile at me reassuringly- but his hand was sweaty and he was white as a ghost. We simultaneously heaved a sigh that blew the black cloud away as, when after an excruciatingly long four minute ultrasound, Dr. Benaceraff said, "There's nothing wrong with this baby!" And damn...she was right.

And there was the terrifying moment when we received the call that my sister , Maggie, had had a stroke and that she was "probably not going to make it." I was 36 weeks pregnant. My body began to shake uncontrollably from the shock. And it was his presence there with me, in the bed, that tethered me to the world that had so suddenly flew off its orbit. He held me together-kept me from exploding. He and Alex-the son I had not yet met. Upon awakening from anesthesia after 32 hours of labor and an emergency C section- there he was again. My husband. The terrible weight of losing Maggie was cleared- for a holy moment- as I delighted to see him holding our tiny bundle so tenderly.

When my Mom had the first of multiple strokes- in 2003- and her protracted three years of dying so slowly-falling away from us all in layers-I found no other solace than to huddle like a baby on his soft beer belly-my head tucked under his chin- with his arms all around me. Only there-only there- was I safe.

I know that this love letter may seem to be a real downer. But it seems that the extremes of life-such as these few that I have recounted- define true love.

And I truly love you, Chris.

Last evening-when I was out on my first ever horseback ride in the lovely canyons of Cerillos, New Mexico-at sunset-with the light fading and a half moon growing whiter against the night sky-half a country away from my husband-all I could think of was him.




No comments:

Post a Comment