While I am impressed I have not the slightest expectation that John and I will follow suit. A couple recently explained to us that the best thing to happen in their marriage this year was to join a gym. They only go together, trying out zumba, yoga, and stationary bicycles. There is childcare on the premises for their preschooler, and it
becomes an instant date. Not only that they have gotten in shape. Pretty sweet deal.
Then there is the wife next door who gave her husband fifty two dates for his birthday, to be redeemed weekly. Similarly stunning, but I can't compete unless stirring pasta side by side counts as romantic.
Last summer for our anniversary I optimistically gifted John with a hundred walks with no prediction about length or frequency. We made it to six
before the idea slid under the table in embarrassment.
While it is tempting to feel like a failure, surrounded by couples who make quality time a priority, it can also niggle me out of complacency. I did sign us up for a marriage group this fall, so that will be a sure fire seven nights in close proximity. There is a dance class coming up on Saturday mornings that has my curiosity. Even if we only get to half it will be fun.
John has
been working on a book of our songs, laboriously editing the words and lyrics. Many are ones we know by heart, and have been singing together for a lifetime. But there is one that nobody but us has heard.
Yesterday out of the blue I started singing it, remembering the quote that it is based on. The tune and most of the words came easily even though I have not thought of it for nearly two years. Then John texted me with a photo of the handwritten
song.
"Can you remember how it goes? I'm putting it in the book." Remarkable.
Last Easter we were invited to spend the day with John's parents, and after the kerfuffle of church, ironing dresses and tossing salad for the potluck we smashed into the car to drive the hour to Kempton. We had not coordinated with his siblings about time or car pooling. But just as we rolled into the driveway, there arrived two of his brothers and their
families. They had driven from different towns, after completely separate circumstances, and we somehow managed with scant communication to descend simultaneously.
While I am a cheerleader when it comes to couples' genuine efforts to create quality time, there is a part of me that believes it may turn out alright even if we don't. Dates are delicious, like dessert. Who could pass up a walk on the beach at dusk, or sushi at your favorite digs? But the real meal of
marriage is showing up day after day to do what you promised... even if the other person is following through somewhere else.
When the game is over I have a quiet trust that couples who were driving madly on divergent roads in disparate cars obeying conflicting GPS instructions, may slow down to the realization that they have landed on the same shore.
