Thirty-Five Years!

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Sunday, September 10, 2017

Today I am grateful for 35 years.  That is how long Himself and I have been married.  Wow!  When I mentioned it to one of my young friends, she said, “That’s my entire life.”  Mine, too.

 

Anyone married for any length of time is lying if they tell you every minute is bliss.  Totally lying.  Or in enough denial to own a river in Egypt.  But when you get a little on in years, the stuff that used to bug you about someone seems to bug you less and less.  Or more and more, except you don’t dwell on it so much.  I’m really not sure which it is.  Probably it fluctuates someplace between the two.

 

The key to a successful marriage, in my opinion is not only love, though that sure helps.  It’s like.  If you don’t like the person who lives in the same house with you, you are dead in the water.  I think that’s where some young people make their mistake.  They love someone, but they tolerate them and don’t really like them that much.  Yes, it’s possible, just like it’s possible to like someone but not love them.  Too esoteric?  Probably, but my mind is all over the place like the 180 mile winds of Hurricane Irma, who is battering Florida right now.

 

Through the years you learn to set your bar a little lower and not sweat the small stuff.  I’m happy if he cleans up the bread crumbs of the crusty French bread he loves.  He’s happy if I take the newspapers off the bathroom sink.  When I worked I made the bed if he was up by the time I left.  He emptied the dishwasher.  Now that we are retired we often do both together.  It’s a dance living with someone.  One leads and the other follows, then the other leads and the other follows.  It’s what creates balance for us.

 

And we laugh.  All the time.  Sometimes it’s with irony, sometimes it’s out of frustration, sometimes it’s just because we’re both crazy.  Himself is a clever, funny guy.  I’ve been known to wax with some wit occasionally.  Together we’re like Burns and Allen and if you don’t know who they are you’re not reading this anyway.  Or Google them.

 

When we married, we combined three of his kids, two of mine, his two cats, my two cats and we got a puppy.  Blended family?  Hah!  Anyone who has lived through this would not call it blended, more like Irma, a category 5 hurricane.

 

Thirty-five years?  When we got married there were “friends” of both of us (no longer) who gave it three!  It’s been a blast, in a twisted way, and I wouldn’t give back a minute.  Himself wouldn’t, either and I know this because I just asked him.

 

“No, I wouldn’t.  We did some stuff we would do differently now because we learned.  But it hasn’t gotten any worse.”  I look at him like only a wife can.  He re-groups.  “It’s only gotten better.  And we love each other, right?”  Way to back-pedal!  And that’s why we’re still together.  What a romantic guy!  Then I laugh!  Again!

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